Parents
by neverintendedtoexist
Summary: John and Sherlock have been married for 2 years, and they now have a son, Hamish. This fic is extremely fluffy.
1. Birth

Today, the baby was to arrive. I'm still unsure whether I want it, babies are noisy, messy and take up a lot of space and time. But John was so persistent, he loved children and he wanted to be a father so badly, I had finally relented. My husband always finds a way to persuade me to do whatever he wants (something I still can't fathom).

Currently, my spouse was running around the apartment checking we had everything ready for the child's arrival. I had told him repeatedly that I had everything itemised but it was one of his little ways to calm his nerves "Babies rarely arrive on their due dates, love. Obstetricians are horribly inaccurate" I called out, not bothering to move from what John called my 'thinking position' on the sofa. John came back into the room, flushed

"But what if he comes and we're not ready?"

"John, you're an ex-solider, there's no way you would have forgotten anything. Even if you did I would have informed you. You made me read that book didn't you?" Earlier, I had reluctantly picked up one of the books John had bought 'Baby and Me' which listed all the 'Do's and Don'ts' of parenting. I thought it could be interesting , may even make a child seem as if they were something other than an incredibly tedious small person unable to do anything themselves. It hadn't worked. This little thing(John had told me to stop calling it that) – _baby _was going to take up all of John's time. What was I going to do when he was constantly preoccupied with nappies and toys that he barely had time to work on cases- I always work so much better when he's with me-? Barely had time for me at all?

"I know, I know. I'm just worried" Of course, I had known this from one glance, but John would always still tell me as I tended to forget about emotions when assessing someone. John was different though, after three years together, two of those married, I knew every movement and expression and, at least in him, the emotion that they portrayed. So now, I stepped forward and pulled him into my arms rubbing disjointed circles on his back in a way that I knew he found to be calming.

After a few minutes, John's stance began to slacken and he leant against me. I pulled him over to the sofa and sat him on my lap. He was exhausted, he had spent the last few nights wide awake by my side fretting and listening for the phone, in case the baby came early. John moved away and lay down, his head on my lap, I moved across the sofa so that he could lie upon my chest. "Why don't you sleep? You don't do well on less than 8 hours."

"No- not t-iii-red. What if she phones?" he yawned widely, effectively abolishing his point. I just stared at down him, dragging my fingers through his rumpled hair. "I'll tell you"

"Fine, fine" he said giving in, and buried his face in my shirt. I continued running my fingers through his hair until I heard the muffled snorts which meant he had fallen to sleep.

* * *

It's now Tuesday ,2.34 am, meaning the baby is 5 days late. As if the little creature had no idea about how rude it was too keep us all waiting. I, of course, usually wouldn't have cared for manners but this was putting a great deal of stress on John, something I can't stand to see. I hadn't been down to Bart's lately, John not wanting to be alone if the surrogate had called, so Molly was bringing up some toes heavily infected with gout at 11am for my latest experiment. I was already awake because John was restless and my secondary experiment needed to be observed in the dark.

"Brrrrrrrrrrrrrring, Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring" the sharp wring filtered through the silent apartment, almost surprising me. I didn't move. I didn't need to. It was obvious who was calling. It was her. The baby was coming.

John picked up the phone in our bedroom and I could hear the excitement and fear in his voice from my place at the kitchen table. He didn't sound tired, despite the fact he had just been awoken in the middle of the night, he was alert and his words were clear (something I summarised was form his training as a solider). I could hear John bumbling about in the room from the sounds of the wardrobe doors and material being pulled he hurriedly dressed. "Lara. Stay calm." There was a pause; I walked to the bedroom so I'd be able to hear Lara's words by listening against John's ear. John gave me a wide grin but his expression was tense "You're at Bart's?" Lara gave a sort of grunt "We'll be there in 5 minutes" He put the phone down and began running around the flat, "He's coming Sherlock. He's coming! We have to be quick; the nurses have said it won't be long." He began looking around the room frantically "Where are the clothes? We need something to dress him in, and the formula, and the nappies!" His movement we're getting more and more violent in his hast, throwing sofa cushions around, searching. "Mrs Hudson moved the bag you packed downstairs, so it would be easier to get"

"Why didn't you say before? We have to get going" John yelled behind him descending the stairs, "Sherlock. Come on. We're going to be dads" his voice raised an octave at the end showing again his complete excitement. I ran after him, mind whirring. _Me. A father. _

John had already hailed a cab, thanking God for London's abundance of them. " St Bart's" he snapped as I slammed the door. I barely took any notice.

I hadn't thought about this before, I had only considered what a disturbance the little thing- _baby-_ would be. Me. Who'd want me as a father? I had never been able to show, or feel, love towards anyone other than John. This poor child would be raised with one warm, loving, parent and the other manipulative and cold. I couldn't let everything slip, I had to work on cases and what about my experiments? "Sherlock?" John leaned across the seat, taking my hand.

"Mmmmm?" I said, picturing a small dark-haired child crying incessantly, knocking over a beaker of chemicals, badgering me as I worked on a case, shouting at me for being a horrible parent-John siding with it.

John knew me too, to him I no longer put up walls, he always saw the real me (why hadn't he run off years ago?) "What is it? You should be excited" John was practically bouncing in his seat. He was going to make such a great dad.

"What if it doesn't like me?" I admitted, being with John had changed me, I had started to feel things. Have the emotions I had blocked out.

"He, it's a boy. " John corrected, voice tightening slightly, pained that I hadn't referred to it as a human being. His voice softened again, ever the comforter, "He'll love you, you'll be a hero to him. Don't worry, love."

"But I'll be a terrible father" I had never felt so under confident, so vulnerable.

"No, you won't. When you see him, you'll feel it." I hadn't mentioned that I didn't understand his feelings of excitement, but he knew exactly what I had been thinking.

Due to the time of night, London was almost deserted so we had avoided all the traffic that could have slowed us so much. So right now we were pulling up to the curb outside the hospital. That pavement which holds so many distant memories, I still feel like I haven't made that up to John.

We ran up to the Maternity Ward, hand in hand, checked Lara's room number and burst through the door. The pallid-skinned, dark haired woman was drenched in sweat out of breath but seemed to be resting.

John had chosen her, with Mycroft's aid, so that the child would somewhat resemble me. I had wanted the surrogate to look like John, but had been overruled- John was always so good at persuading me. It would be a game of chance as to who was the biological father as we used a mix of sperm.

"I thought- I thought we were going to be too late" said John his voice cracking with emotion. He sat down beside the bed and took Lara's hand, they had become quite close. I hated the fact that someone else was so close to John, but could bear it in this circumstance. Despite this however I wondered over and placed my hand on John's shoulder possessively. John turned to look at me, but just then a contraction hit Lara and John turned back, wincing slightly as she squeezed his hand. I wanted to wrench him away-this woman was causing him pain- but didn't. She needed that. Lara's sister was on her other side wiping her head with a damp cloth. "How are you?" I asked politely.

John gave me a Look, the one that meant I had said the wrong thing, I raised my eyebrow enquiringly but he didn't have time to answer "_How am I?_ How am I? I'm pushing another human being out of my body-"

Her sister, I hadn't bothered to learn her name, spoke up "Maybe you should wait outside…"

"He can't miss his son being born" John protested

"I can't…do this with him…in here…" Lara panted, she and I hadn't got along since I had done a little extra research on her. It was nothing, I just confirmed a few suspicions (she had refused to answer my questions) and give her a couple of small quizzes. My child, though I had not recognised the meaning of the words until now, would have to be intelligent. I had only ever thought of the positive and negative practicalities of a child, never the practice of parenting or what would be expected of me.

Fortunately she had tested as having an IQ above average and could have become a member of Mensa. I could have talked to her for a while but somehow I had offended her, maybe it was the comment about her mother's past as a stripper. That was probably right as when I said it, John had given me The Look. Or it may have been the hacking of her and her families medical records, plus I even asked for Mycroft's help on a family investigation. Excluding the things I had known from their first meeting, she was relatively clean. I concluded that it was the combination of all theses factors that had caused her attitude towards me.

"He can come back, when it's closer. Just not now" said Lara, her face relaxing slightly. I wandered out into the corridor and went to my Mind Palace, I needed to plan every eventuality of what could happen with this child.

Shortly, John appeared at the door "How are you doing?" he asked, his voice soft. I snapped out trance and looked at him. "Bored"

"Bored? There are babies being born all around us…and you're bored?" he came and sat next to me "It isn't going as fast as we thought, and I think I'm irritating Violet, she never liked me. I don't think she likes what her sister's doing at all. Shall we go for a walk?"

I stood grabbing John's hand and pulling him with me "Yes. I hate waiting. It's taking its time isn't it?"

"He, Sherlock. Stop calling him It. He can't help it. I thought I would help and I have my phone in case something happens, Violet will ring. I know how impatient you are" Again John had shown his caring nature, giving up something just so I would feel a little better.

"Yes, John you always know what's best for me". We walked around the hospital's grounds, John still bouncing, checking his phone every few seconds.

"Let's go back, you're much too restless" he quickly agreed and we walked back to Lara's hospital room.

"I was just about to ring you" said Violet over her sister's screams and grunts of pain, as we entered the room. "He's coming"

This was it. The baby was about to be born. He would be a part of the world. John had raced to the bed, flustered. "I-I can't-Thank you, so much. I-I" he babbled I followed him and took his hand.

"It's now Sherlock. He's almost here." John whispered in elation and wonderment.

Lara gave one final, loud, push and a screeching red mass fell into the nurse's arms. She turned and cleaned it up, was about to hand it to Lara, who immediately gestured towards John. "He-he's beautiful" John was crying, but the baby itself had quietened. "Thank you. This is the best gift anyone could have given" he turned to me "Here, you're his father too, hold him" .I held out my arms, and John gestured to make a cradle as he had, which I did. He placed the pink, wriggling mass, with a mass of blonde curls into my arms.

Right then, he opened his eyes and looked straight at me. He was perfect- there really was no other word, my mind was only filled with images of the infant it my arms. The tiny fingers, the light hair, the already inquiring eyes, I could already tell he was John's. "Hamish" I whispered. "After you". We had discussed names, or rather John had read aloud names from a book and I had paid little attention, but no name would have fit better. "John I –I love him" John smiled down at the baby adoringly, his eyes spilling over again. Then back up at me I was astounded at the statement, I never thought I would be able to love anyone else. This little boy was gorgeous, I couldn't look away. I knew then that I would do anything for this boy, anything to protect him and John. Anything to make sure that his life would be absolutely painless and utterly and completely perfect, as he and John had now made mine.


	2. Laughing

**_AN:_**_ If there is anyone that would be willing to Beat future chapters, that would be greatly appreciated (I've looked for Beta's but feel like I'd be bothering them too much). Reviews mean encouragement, which means faster updates. _

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Hamish is now three months old, and still fascinating. Sometimes I'll just sit and watch him for hours, not in the same way one would observe an experiment but in a careful comfortable way, hoping that he'll do something new but I find the experience equally as enchanting if he didn't do anything. Almost like an unexpected reaction in a chemical solution but much, much more fulfilling.

According to my research, all the skills that Hamish has shown are ahead of his age, which is an extremely good sign. I read to him every day, alternating (currently) between The Hobbit and a book that I have to keep correcting, The Forensic Anthropology. He seemed to like The Hobbit better but the other book would have a very good effect on him (John had protested against me reading it initially but quickly relented). John would read to him sometimes but little cardboard books that would offer him almost no mental stimulation, but rather sensual, which will be beneficial to his development. I liked this arrangement as I don't think I could have sat through the dull predictability of The Grufflo. When he got a little older John would move onto books with different textures and those that would help him identify colours etc.

I also like to play to him on the violin. This would be mostly Bach but occasionally my own compositions. He especially likes the one I composed for John. I have recently written one that is reflective of him, light and bouncy John loved that. Classical music is especially good for his mental development.

John's favourite activity was currently trying to get Hamish to laugh. It was amusing to watch, mostly he would dance around, blow raspberries, tickle him. Nothing seemed to be working but John was continuing, persistent as ever. He never gives up, no matter what others say to him.

So today, walking in them playing after a Skype call with Lestrade who, it seemed, could not solve one case for himself- actually with staff like Anderson that made a lot of sense. The case had been extremely easy the placement of the body, so incredibly close to home, and the amount of wounds showed immediately that it was the victim's sister. I didn't think anything of it that John was running around the room pretending to hurt himself, Hamish was gazing at him in confusion from his bassinette (he had two-one on our room one that we moved around the flat). "Really John? Didn't you read that article; children don't react to slapstick until the age of at least 18 months"

"I know, I just want to make him laugh so badly."

"It'll happen, love. You have to be patient"

"You're telling me to be patient?" he asked picking up Hamish walking towards me. "You…Sherlock Holmes-Watson…are the most….impatient person… I have ever met" he said punctuating each pause with kisses. "So?"

"Being a bit hypocritical aren't we?" I just looked at him, face completely blank. John chuckled, a light warm love that I had come to adore. At that moment, Hamish let out a cry. I glanced at the clock, it was time for his feed "Shall I do it or are you?" I asked over Hamish's wails.

"You can, there are a few already made up in the fridge."

I warmed the bottle to the sufficient degree (2 minutes 21 seconds in the microwave took it to the correct temperature) and took Hamish from John who had been bouncing him around in an effort to keep him quiet.

Hamish latched onto the bottle immediately, eating as if he had been starved for weeks. I particularly enjoyed feeding him, watching his expression, as he always looked to be totally in awe of the bottle that fed him-something so simple.

During this time John had gotten out his laptop and was typing something up "Do you think people will be bothered that I haven't written about a case in weeks?"

"No." I answered not looking up from our son.

"But so many people read it"

"You've told them about Hamish?" I asked hoping that he had not taken the comment offensively. I still tend not to consider these things till later though John is the only one that I think is worth it at all.

"Yes-"

"Then they should understand" I cut him off. He shrugged and made a grunt of agreement. Then he put down his laptop and went to get his camera. He had started some ridiculous project to document everything Hamish did. He thinks he's going to forget. What must that be like? Forgetting little things, first those that could be deemed as unimportant though that may be helpful at times as it would be a lot easier if I didn't have to spend time deleting those things. But there are things that need to be remembered. People must find it a little irritating. I myself have every moment spent with John, and now Hamish, saved in my brain which I am able to bring to the forefront of my mind whenever necessary.

John came back in just as Hamish finished "Shoot. I wanted a photo of that"

Hamish was still nudging at the bottle with his mouth making small sounds in irritation that there was nothing left. "I'm making him another. You can do it then, if you have to" John and I had had a discussion on this, he knew how I loathed having my picture taken. Stubborn as ever, he had won saying "I don't want to miss any of this, I'm not like you, I might forget" he had looked so mournful that I had given in, I hate seeing him upset and always do my best to prevent it.

When the bottle was done I fed Hamish again and John took the picture (again I refused to look up).

"According to the article, playing peek-a-boo should work. Babies do not understand the concept of peripheral vision"

"He didn't seem interested"

"Maybe if we both try?" I said grudgingly, wishing that Hamish would understand the full concept of the game, that we in fact didn't disappear. But of course, his brain wasn't up to that yet so in the meantime this would be an activity that I would try. I wanted him to experience as many different things as possible so that he would have the blissful childhood that both John and I had missed out on.

I placed Hamish in the bassinette took John's hand and stood over him. "So now if we just move out of his line of vision.."

"I know what peek-a-boo is, Sherlock"

"Oh. I didn't, must've deleted it" John shook his head fondly

"There are a few things that you may need to keep"

"I keep only the most important information" John looked down at Hamish who grabbed hold of his finger. He seemed to be contemplating something, rephrasing it in his head. I guessed his train of thought before he got the chance to speak "I never delete anything to do with you. Or Hamish of course" John beamed.

"I didn't think you would" he said pulling me into a hug. We stood there for a while, enjoying the quiet and just being in each other's arms. Hamish gave a snuffle, obviously wondering why his parents were no longer paying attention to him.

"Yes we're here" I said pulling away and smiling at him. "I can't believe we're doing this" I said to John as we both popped down just underneath the cot. "Shhhhhh" John cautioned putting up three fingers. He put each down in turn, and then we both jumped up.

And we were rewarded with the most delightful sound I have ever heard. Better than a symphony, better than a call from Lestrade about a case after weeks of nothing. John was almost dancing in euphoria. "It's brilliant" he whispered picking our son up and hugging him.

"Wonderful" I agreed kissing the top of Hamish's head.

We spent the rest of the afternoon repeatedly hiding from Hamish and reappearing for his amusement. It was enthralling, despite the expected tediousness, Hamish's delight at the action made it very worthwhile.


	3. Disturbance

**_AN:_**_ I have a lovely Beta, **Sherlockedmyheart**_**,**_ so many thanks to her for this. Thank you to those who have alerted or favourited :)_

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A loud bang sounded from downstairs and I could hear Mrs Hudson's voice getting shrill: "Again? Will you be quiet this time? And don't mess up my floor!" Judging by her footsteps she then ran into her own apartment, presumably to relocate her herbal soothers. Lestrade's voice wafted up towards me next.

"Yes ma'am." He answered respectfully. He seemed to be slightly resentful to the fact that he had to be here at all. The comment was followed by a loud chorus of feet galloping up the stairs and a hammering on the flat door. "Sherlock, I know you're in there! I have a warrant, open the door now!"

"Or we'll smash it down!" came Anderson's gleeful and loathsome voice.

I made no attempt to get up, fully intent on leaving them to it, then I remembered that John had only just got Hamish to sleep and stood with a sigh. "Fine, though do please be quiet." I opened the door and they burst through "Hamish is sleeping. There was a reason that I didn't answer your calls." Lestrade was about to speak but he was interrupted by a droning, callous voice.

"Hey, freak." said Donavon picking up my skull from the mantelpiece and twirling it in her hands. "I can't believe you still have this with a baby in the house."  
Her voice was loud despite my warning and we heard a tell-tale cry from the bedroom. All the rest of the Yarders laughed (there were sixteen of them there), apart from Lestrade who was giving her a cautionary glare.

I sighed, deciding that waking him up was worth breaking the promise to John to be nicer to the Yarders (he had told me that it was flexible). "None of your business, though I do suggest that you tell your mother about your father's new 'business'." Donavon coloured and took out her phone: evidently to text her mother and inform her of her husband's money laundering. "Now, what do I have to get you out of here?"

"Triple murder, all mutilated."

"Is that the one in the papers? Where all of the victims were blonde and exactly 20 years old?"

"Yes…I didn't think that you read the papers."

"I don't. John told me. Check the CCTV, if there is a man with a leather briefcase and cane then he's your killer."

"How do you know that, freak? You haven't even looked at the crime scene." She said with an air of superiority. "Bet you know him, with all of your little homeless friends. You're pathetic; I bet you have people stationed everywhere just so they can record whatever happens and report back."  
She had obviously been working on this speech for a long time. Donavon had been trying to think of another way to discredit me ever since it had been proved that her theory about me faking everything was totally fabricated and planted in her mind by Moriarty. Though had expected her to be fired for such misconduct, apparently she was too much of an asset to Scotland Yard. This is exactly why the police force is completely useless.

John had walked into the room during this speech cradling a whimpering Hamish. His face was tense, lips tight and as he spoke his voice shook in anger "Don't you dare talk about my husband like that." He spat, his eyes dark "You're jealous, you wish that you were as good as him at what he does."  
Sally raised her eyebrows and smirked but John continued, "He's wonderful, he's saved hundreds of lives and put dozens of criminals behind bars, he's the most intelligent person I have ever met-"

"He doesn't know that the Earth goes around the Sun." Anderson scoffed. "He loves doing this stuff. What a psychopath. I feel sorry for the kid having a father like him." He said turning to the other Yarders, who were still stood in the doorway. Hamish was quiet now and John shifted him onto his hip then came over and put his arm around my waist, in what I guessed was a comforting gesture. Anderson winced at that action.  
"Maybe he doesn't, but that doesn't take away from his complete brilliance. You have no idea how fantastic he is, how many people he has helped. He's great with Hamish, loving, gentle and I know he'll be a good teacher. You're not even worthy of being in his presence." John took a step towards him, "And you're homophobic, I don't want you around our son. Get out, please" Even when he was angry, John kept the air politeness and proper etiquette.

"Yes, we're going." Lestrade answered directing the Yarders out of the door "I'm sorry, I won't bring those two next time. I wouldn't have to do this at all if you answered your phone."

He closed the door behind him. John turned back to me I put my arms around him loosely as not to squish Hamish.

"I didn't realise you were so defensive." I said kissing him "Thank you."

"They shouldn't say those things." He sat down on the sofa and rocked Hamish, whose tired eyes were closing again. I followed, taking his hand and stroking it.

"They can't help it. They're much too stupid to control themselves and are not intelligent enough to come up with real insults." I stood up again, dragging him with me. I whispered in his ear "How about we put Hamish to bed and I show you how much I appreciate it?"


	4. Teething

Mycroft was coming over to visit Hamish today; he, surprisingly, really quite enjoyed playing the doting uncle. Though I still found his appearances as abhorrent as ever, his love of my son was made him tolerable. John had told me that our relationship was 'improving'- he had been set on us getting closer after he had made up with Harry when she had quit drinking.

John and I had been up all night with Hamish, who was teething, so John was particularly irritable meaning that I would be able to minimise Mycroft's visiting time. "When does he get here?" I asked John, who was tidying away toys, whilst I got Hamish dressed.

"In two hours."

"What are we supposed do while we wait? This is most disturbing."

"Anything. He's your brother, and he wants to see his nephew. Be nice."

"I am nice." I said, smirking and tickling Hamish's toes as I pulled on his socks.

"Only to people you like." John placed the last of the stuffed toys in the box in the corner of the room and began putting Hamish's clothes in the wardrobe.

"Yes, so?"

"You have to be nice to everyone, unless they aren't to you. We've talked about this before."

"Why?" I asked, my voice probably resembling that of a child that had been refused sweets.

"Because that's the way society works."

"But I don't want to." I mumbled stubbornly. I picked Hamish up and balanced him on my hip.

"Sherlock, I know that this is hard for you, you've been doing well with the Yarders recently. Please, be nice to Mycroft, for me?"

"I'll try."

"That's all I ask." He planted a kiss on my cheek and put a bib on Hamish, who was currently trying to get all of his fingers in his mouth at once and dribbling down my front. "Did you put his teething ring back in the fridge?"

"Of course." I answered and John walked off to get it while Hamish changed tactics and was now wiggling so that he would be able to get the buttons from my shirt into his mouth.

"No, no." I scolded lightly, following John downstairs.  
He looked up at me, his grey-blue eyes scanning my face in what John said was a version of my own glare when beginning to deduce someone. According to the research I had done this mimicking of expressions was only usually present in older children, but Hamish was ahead in every aspect of his development so far.

"Good Morning, dear brother." Mycroft waltzed into the flat, smarmy as ever, and glanced around the apartment then appraised John and I.  
John had come back to sit one the sofa next to after letting my brother in. Mycroft picked Hamish up from his place on the floor where he was playing with a set of alphabet blocks I had bought him (every toy I had purchased for him was educational).  
He then lifted Hamish above his head and Hamish let out a delighted yelp.  
'Where on earth had my brother learnt to deal with children?' I thought to himself as Mycroft began spinning his nephew around and then turned back to John and I.  
"John says he's teething?"

"Well obviously." I bit back.  
John my knee a squeeze, reminding me that I had promised to be nice (though that had been the reason I hadn't yet commented on the fact that Mycroft had put on five and a half pounds and was no longer keeping to his diet).

"I was just exchanging pleasantries, a concept which seems to be lost on you." He retorted.  
I bit my lip and turned my attention to Hamish, who was trying to pick up Mycroft's tie and put it in his mouth (hopefully he would leave a mark and Mycroft would need to send it to be dry cleaned).  
"How are you coping?" he asked John and the two engaged in a conversation about Hamish's sleeping habits and parenting techniques.

I could see that by now Hamish was getting bored, judging by his expression he was about to start crying. I picked up a block from the floor and handed it to him, which he immediately put into his mouth. Mycroft had finished talking by now and he looked at Hamish. "Well, it can't be good for you to chew that now, can it?" He attempted to take the block away from Hamish who let out a moan. "Oh, no need to cry." And reached his hand out to place his finger over Hamish's lips as a sign to keep him quiet.

"I wouldn't do that Mycroft." interjected John, but Mycroft hadn't listened and his finger came to rest neatly on Hamish's mouth, which was open in a wide 'O' shape.

"Why ever not-" he was going to add something else but let out a gasp of pain and wrenched his hand away from the child's mouth. Hamish had taken Mycroft's extended finger into his mouth and bit down, and from the sound of it, hard. Hamish looked around, confused and I suppressed a giggle. I glanced over at John who was avoiding looking at me, but his lips were pressed together suspiciously tightly.

Mycroft promptly handed a now quiet, grinning Hamish to me. "Aren't you going to tell him not to do that again?" Prompted Mycroft angrily.

"No. It's natural, you said it yourself, he's teething."

"Oh, well. I better be going anyway." he said, obviously offended (not that I cared).

John walked him downstairs and I heard them saying goodbye at the door, John apologising-not for Hamish, but that Mycroft had to leave. I slid down onto the floor and began spelling out words with the blocks and showing him. I knew that he wouldn't understand but it would be good for him to see that the symbols on the blocks corresponded with words, though he wouldn't be able to grasp the concept of either.

John came back into the flat, and I took one look at him and we both collapsed in laughter. "I love you, Hai." He picked Hamish up and lifted him high, kissing him all over. Hamish giggled and buried his hands in his dad's hair.  
"That was fantastic." I said as John sat down next to me and plonked Hamish between us.

I turned around, so that my legs were on either side of Hamish, and leaned over him to hug my husband. Hamish launched himself towards John at the same time, making it obvious that he wanted to join in on the cuddle


	5. Speech

Hamish is five months old and he keeps mumbling things. They seem almost like words, in fact they're very close but they aren't. According to my research babies are able to talk as young as 4 months. He'll say things like 'jaja' or 'fafa' but they can hardly be counted as real words, though they are preliminary to his development of being able to form whole words.

John says that it's highly uncommon that a baby will speak at the age of five months, but agrees that the skills Hamish has thus far displayed indicate that he will be able to talk soon.

So now we wait.

I hate waiting.

Having Hamish has changed my life a lot. Sometimes, I look back to long ago, to the days before I even met John, and I don't understand how I lived at all.

Back then, I didn't love. I didn't think I was capable of it. I know that a long time ago, I was an 'adorable' child and my mother tells me that, although I was very different to other children that I was clingy at times.

School changed me. I was the outsider. I had to cope with the endless taunts, the broken ribs. At one point, something snapped and I couldn't take it anymore so I began to distance myself voluntarily and went to work on honing in on my talents of observation.

There was nothing else to do; this would be a way for me to get back at the bullies. It would impress them. I was wrong (Did I just admit I was wrong about something? Ugh. Forgive me. I was young). It only encouraged them; they thought me even more abnormal than before. The only way, therefore, to cope would be to turn off all emotions, find ways to block everything out. Create a wall.

Why am I thinking about this? The thing is though it pleases me greatly, I couldn't have an idiot for a son. And, Hamish's advanced development suggests that he will be like me. That he will have the mental capacity to think the same way I do, to be a 'genius' as John says.

I don't know yet if this also means that he will have the same experiences as I have. I couldn't stand seeing him go through that. I don't want him to be like me, cut off, cold, manipulative…a sociopath.

But like me, he has John and John will be able to show him the way a real human functions. I know that humanity is something I can turn on and off and that's not good. I don't want Hamish to have to ask if his behaviour is correct for a situation when he gets older. I want him to be normal, at least in that respect.

I'm sure that John can teach Hamish the most valuable traits in a man, loyalty, bravery, warmth, underlying sensitive and most of all, love.

I was reading to Hamish on the sofa when it happened, John was sat in his chair doing something on the internet (probably shopping, he does it online because it means no chip and pin machines).

"Dull."

John almost threw his laptop down running to sit before Hamish. "What did you say Hai?"

Hamish stayed silent, obviously confused by his dad's behaviour. I tried a different tactic I pulled him over to my lap and turned him so he was facing me. "Repeat it."

Although it was unlikely he understood the words I said, the tone of my voice obviously came across as an order, and the high, chirping voice came again,

"Dull."

"Oh Hai." His voice quivered and he had tears in his eyes.

John pulled Hamish towards him and held him tightly. "I was right. He's obviously highly intelligent."

"Oh, Sherlock. Aren't you pleased? Not on the level that you know he's intelligent, but that he's communicating with us?"

I hadn't thought if that aspect before. Hamish could talk, soon he would be able to understand the meaning of his words; he was a real person, not a baby. Not just a little person that we would mould, he was himself, of course he would copy John and my behaviour, but he had his own personality already.

Soon, he would call me 'Father'.

"Yes. John he spoke. He spoke." The elation filled me up like a rising bubble, spreading warmth to the very tips of my fingers and toes.  
I slid off the sofa and joined in the cuddle. It was the happiest I had ever felt.


	6. Illness

"John…he's got a temperature." I felt Hamish's forehead with the back of my hand again, checking for the umpteenth time.

Being a doctor, John knew the signs of every common ailment as well as the more serious ones- this meant that he worried a lot more than most parents as he had seen a temperatures turn into pneumonia in a matter of hours. Though of course, he would soon look at any other symptoms and identify the real problem.

"What? Okay, wait a minute, I'll get the thermometer…" He said over Hamish's grizzles.

"His temperature is 37.9⁰C." I said as I sat Hamish on the bed, taking off his T-shirt and trousers, leaving him in his baby grow in an effort to keep him cool.

"You'll be right, but I'll still feel better checking like this." John said. I wasn't offended, this was just John's medical training kicking in.  
Nothing people said ever offended me, unless it was from John (especially as he was always so full of praise). I had put up walls to those comments a long time ago. In fact, if anyone said anything detrimental towards me, John would react very defensively- something that I have to admit I love.

"Yes, 37.9⁰C how do you - never mind, you go get him cool water and I'll take this off and leave him in a vest. If it hasn't gone down in the next half hour, I'll give him some Calpol."

"Why not now? He needs it."

"Well…it's just to be safe."

Hamish let out a cry that sounded very much like he was in pain.

"Okay," John conceded. "15 minutes, you're always supposed to wait. Some people give their children too much and it can be harmful as the original ailment. It'll give me time to look at his other symptoms."

"I know that, but he's in pain." I stared across at John, who was sat on the other side of the bed, and he just shook his head. I knew that he was right, but I couldn't stand to see Hamish like this. I knew that John couldn't either, but that this treatment would be important.

I went into the kitchen, got the cool water and raced back to John and Hamish. Hamish was still crying, not at all interested in his favourite toy that John was currently waggling in front of his face. I put the bottle in Hamish's hands and watched him intently as he drank. His cheeks were red put the rest of his face was unusually pale. "John. Look at him. He needs the medicine."

"Well…" John looked at Hamish again, examining with a carefully trained eye. "It won't hurt him-" Before he could finish I was up and out of the door and heading for the medicine cupboard.

I didn't usually look in the cupboards at all, unless that environment was need for an experiment, but from watching John I knew exactly where to look. I took the bottle and spoon in and pulled Hamish onto my lap.

"Now, Hamish this won't taste nice, but it'll make you better."

Hamish stopped crying and looked at me intently. Though I knew it was implausible I felt as if he had understood my words exactly. I poured out the garish bright pink liquid, supposedly to make it look more appetising to a young child, and lowered it into Hamish's mouth. He opened his mouth and from his expression when he swallowed, I once again had the feeling that he understood exactly what I had said.

"It's been 42 minutes."

I could see that Hamish was in pain. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stand it, there was something definitely wrong. I had promised to make his life painless, enjoyable, and perfect. I was failing. Maybe it was illogical to think that Hamish would never get ill but actually seeing him like this was awful. I felt totally helpless and I am never helpless, I felt normal. I couldn't stand it.

"I know Sherlock." John had picked Hamish up and was examining his breathing and pulse rates.

"It's supposed to have worked."

"I know. Come here, I put the thermometer away. Does he feel hotter to you?"

I went over to John, who was now on the sofa, and I leaned over him to place my hand on Hamish's forehead.

"He's 39⁰." I said tensely. Okay, maybe it was worry. I was still so unused to feeling like that.  
"We need to take him to the surgery." His eyes were flickering over Hamish and his voice was panicked.

"Don't you know what's wrong?"

"He has all the symptoms of chickenpox, but the spots. I need to ask someone how normal this is, or if it could be something else."  
"I didn't think it was that simple." I had read about a few things about the diseases common in young children online and the Calpol should have still reduced his temperature.

"Let's just go. We'll see when we get there."

The cab ride to the surgery was awful, Hamish cried and the cab was stuffy. It was raining so we couldn't open the windows to cool him. John and I were on the edge of our seats for the whole journey.

When we got there it was Sarah who came to see us. I still didn't like her, she looked at John hungrily like she was about to pounce. I had started to evaluate my affectionate behaviour around others as John had told tell me about the way Molly had felt about me. I could see form this that Sarah still 'fancied' John and even when his son was sick, still flirted shamelessly with him.

We walked into her office and she leant over to examine Hamish, who was sat on John's lap "You're right. It's chickenpox, but a particularly evolved strain. The spots won't show for a few days, and you'll need something stronger for his temperature."

She printed out a prescription, John thanked her appreciatively, and we went to the chemist to we pick the medicine up and got Hamish home as soon as possible.

We fed Hamish the medicine in the car so that it would take effect as quickly as possible. John said that it was the type that would work straight away, which was an immense relief.

Hamish was obviously tired as his cries were more like growls. Luckily, the traffic was light and we got back to the flat quickly. As soon as we placed him in his cot he fell asleep.

I was going to have to face the fact that Hamish was susceptible to viruses, scrapped knees and bumps and there was nothing that I could do about it. I would, however, do absolutely anything I could to protect him from anything else.


	7. Drugs

Clear.

The colours seem much sharper, and everything seems a lot more focused. I had forgotten how good this was.

I would be able to do it now, I was sure of it.

The case had been bothering me for weeks.  
Weeks.

I never take this long on a case. I needed to improve my mind-set, and the countless nicotine patches didn't work (once you get past 9 there really is no difference).

The cigarettes I stole from some Yarder's pocket hadn't done anything either. I couldn't stand it.

I don't know who did it; I've hardly made the connections. What is it about this case? There's something I've missed, or more likely, that it's something the Yarders removed and therefore stunted my entire investigation.

However, I still should've have been able to do it. I know I should've. I just should've.  
There was one thing that I hadn't tried. It was because of a promise to John. He had let me off with the cigarettes as he was in an extremely good mood (Hamish had slept through the night for the first time). And that he thought I'd only had one, also knowing that if I hadn't had that I would have done something much worse.

And he made me reiterate the promise I made years ago.

***

It was just after the first 'drugs bust' that Lestrade had done. "You used to take drugs?" he had asked incredulously, raising his eyebrows.  
"Yes. What of it?"

"Like…marijuana?"

He shifted uncomfortably, his background meant that he could have easily have gone down the route of drug addiction and I knew that it was something he hated. His use of the word 'marijuana' alone rather than 'weed' or 'pot' shouted this.  
"No."  
I would have answered like this to anyone else but John normally, but if it was another subject matter I would have given him a full explanation.  
I was avoiding talking about my past with drugs due to his opinion on it. I had wondered why I even cared about his opinion, back then. I didn't yet know that I loved him.  
"Cocaine?" His voice was more demanding now and I knew that I wouldn't be able to just avoid his questions.

Regardless of this, however I still wanted to so I walked away and sat at the kitchen table.

"Sherlock? Sherlock. Answer me. Did you take cocaine?" I could hear the ring in his voice that screamed 'Captain John Watson'.

I brought my knees up to my chin on the small chair; he was closer now, his head bent right in front of mine.

"Yes."

"Sherlock." He elongated the 'o' in my name in distress.

"John." I answered shortly.

"How could you? Don't you know what is does? It kills brain cells. I thought that was important to you, even if your health isn't!"

"Of course I knew that. It doesn't have that effect on me, it helps me."

"Helps you? Helps you?" He was getting angry and I didn't understand why. Why would he even care?

"Yes. I can see things more clearly when I take it."

"Wait. Does that mean you'd still take it now? If you were stuck on a case?"

"Maybe. Depends. "

"Never do that again Sherlock."

"Why?"

John's face grew red, his hands were shaking. "Because it's harmful, you might get addicted."

"I got over it before, at least what Mycroft classed as an addiction. I could have quit myself."

John ignored the last sentence. "You were addicted? What, you went to rehab?"

"Yes and no. My brother's version of rehab."

I had decided that I would tell him the whole truth all the time, not knowing that in few months, I would be made to tell, betray him, and convince him that everything he already knew of me was nothing but a fairy tale.

"What was that?" He was genuinely curious now, though the anger still flickered in his eyes.

"He locked me in a room in his manor and hired professionals to guard me and look after me. Ninja nurses, if you will."

That didn't elicit the predicted chuckle form John he just stared at me, he was revaluating me, deciding whether he could trust me.

He walked to the chair and sat down heavily, I followed, knowing the conversation wasn't over yet.

"I can't believe it. I couldn't stand seeing you like that. It could have ruined you." He turned in his seat and indicated for me to sit down opposite.

Which I did, wondering since when did I obey orders?

"Sherlock, would you promise me something?" He asked tentatively.

"What?" I replied shortly.

"That you'll never, never take cocaine again." His cool blue eyes stared into mine, his face completely serious.

"But I might need it."

"No Sherlock. You won't. You're too good for that."

It was either my already deep-rooted, hidden love for him or the look of deep concern and almost forceful look he gave me which forced me to agree.

"I promise. I won't take cocaine again." Whilst saying that, I had already judged that I may be able to take other drugs with the same affect.

He was quick, I had to give him that "Or anything else?"

I sighed, he was much smarter than I had expected-even for a doctor- "Yes."

"Say I promise, or you'll find a way to wriggle out it."

"I promise you, John Watson, that I will not take any drug whatsoever unless under your personal advice."

***

Today was the first time I had broken my promise, or any promise at all, that I had made to John.

I felt bad, truly. But this case was important and he had been with Hamish so he couldn't help or talk about the case as much as he used to. A lot of it would not be appropriate for Hamish's ears.

I know I shouldn't have done it, and that this will cause a huge argument, or more, but I didn't care.

The cocaine had been far too easy to acquire, in fact I got it delivered long with a pre-packaged sterilised needle.

As soon as I found the vein and injected the substance into my blood stream I felt my mind begin to whirr. Of course, there were some thoughts that were completely absurd but I could block those out.

I went to the wall where I had all the notes taped up and looked at the photos of the bodies on my phone. I felt that I was so close, and I just stared at the pattern of notes stuck up and waited for it to come. Then the other thoughts began to be harder to block out.

The room was spinning slightly and the floor seemed to be lurching up at me. I sat down for a moment, dazed. Thankfully, everything seemed to stay still. Then, as I half expected, I was hungry.  
I went to the kitchen and took the first think out of the fridge; Jam. It would be jam. John had far too much of it. I took out some bread and spread it on, knocking the needle on the floor as I did so.

I didn't pick it up; I was too dizzy for that. I knew I had time to pick it up later as John and Hamish wouldn't be back form Harry's for hours, it'd be over by then.  
I ate almost the whole loaf of bread and sat as the light in the room became distorted. The cocaine should have sharpened my mind, not done this to me. What was different?  
Then I got it.

It was his maid, the maid; she would have access to the shed, the record books, everything! She was so young, 14, that I had almost eliminated her, that and the fact that her work was illegal and that she wasn't mentioned for days. It was so obvious.  
I had stood up with this realisation and now I felt faint. The light was flickering, changing colours. The room jolted suddenly and I heard a screeching and somehow I was on the floor.

I didn't bother to get up, it was comfortable here. Then the thoughts I had blocked out earlier came flooding into my mind;

_'What if Hamish hates me? He looks at me so differently to the way he looks at John? John. He's going to leave me. He felt stuck anyway. He moaned when I refused to go with him and Hamish to Harry's it must have been the final straw, he'll be back soon for their things. Then I'll be alone again. What if he never loved me? What if everything was an act? It's illogical. that he would love me at all.'_

Then I heard the bang of the door…John was home. I'd ask him; get to know how he really felt. I stood up, holding onto the wall, and went into the living room.  
"You're here." My voice sounded strange, very soft and far away.  
"What the hell Sherlock?" He frowned, putting Hamish down on the floor- who immediately crawled away- "What have you done?"

"Nothing. Why do you ask? Do you love me, really?" I said smoothly as I could, though I had a niggling feeling that my acting wasn't up to scratch.  
"Of course I do." He stooped down, so he was on eye level with me. He seemed to spot something then grabbed my wrist, putting his fingers on my pulse. His whole body was tense and he bit his lip.

"But really John-"

He cut me off. "**ing hell, Sherlock. What did you take?"

He was shouting, his hands were balled into fists and his voice was stern and angry.

"I-I. Nothing. "

"You can't act with me. I know the signs. What was it?" His face swam in front of me, then flopped sideways.

"Sit up, sit up." I felt hands dragging me upright. "What was it?" Before I could tell him, we heard a cry from the kitchen.

"Hamish?" Hamish-" John shouted, running to the kitchen. I followed, holding onto the wall again. Hamish was sat on the floor, my needle in his hands. His left hand was closing over the top of the syringe.

John wrenched it from his grip. "Is this-is this what you used?" John held it up in my face, his hand was shaking in anger

"Yes." my lip was trembling, I felt like crying. This drug was really messing with my brain.

"And you left it on the floor? Where Hamish could have got it?"  
"I-I didn't think that-"

"Of course you didn't. You never think about anyone else!"

I sank down onto the floor, and grabbed John's leg. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, John. I just needed it."

John shook me off and picked Hamish up. "You disgust me. I'm going to get him to the hospital. Go to sleep. It was cocaine? They'll need to know."

I managed a meek "Yes." and he stormed out of the door.

***

I must have somehow got to the bedroom as I was curled up in bed when I felt the vomit rising in my throat. I only had time to lean over the bed and into the bin before I threw up.

"John?" I croaked. My throat was sore, my whole body ached.  
And he was there. He was looking after me, like he always would. He held out a glass of water.

"Drink this. And this doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you."

I drank up, then attacked him in a hug, dragging him onto the bed. I knew he would make me better. I felt a cold sweat drip over me. I felt awful, but already I knew that I wouldn't get more because of John, right now, with my head on his chest, I could hear his heart beating. Loud, like a drum beat, much louder than it should have been.

"Sherlock. Stop it." He pushed me away and moved to the edge of the bed.

Then I remembered. "Hamish?"

"He's fine, no thanks to you."

"Did he-?"

"No, thank god."

I collapsed against him "I'm so sorry John, if he had-"

"You should have thought about that before."

"I can't. I can't apologise enough."

"How am I supposed to trust you, Sherlock?" John turned away, the pain obvious in his eyes. "John, John? What can I do?"

"Nothing. I hate myself for this, but I can understand why you did it. I blame myself. I shouldn't have left you, I know the state you get in when you're on a case. I didn't realise how much you depended on me, that you were…" he seemed to be struggling for a word. "…addicted to me."

He was right, John was like a drug. But instead of paranoia and hallucinations, he gave me love and kindness.

I couldn't believe that I had almost given him up for a cold, evil liquid.

"It wasn't you. I was weak. I'm sorry. I should have thought of you. I was too focused on the case."

"You always are. But as a father, you need to put your child first, every decision you make has an effect on them."

"Yes. John. I will, always. I made one mistake."

"You did. And yours was the worst kind. Okay, Sherlock. We need to do something."

"What?" I let my eyes drift over him but his body language showed no signs of his plans.

"Sit there." He indicated the spot in front of him and sat cross-legged on the bed, indicating for me to do the same.

"Sherlock, if you ever take anything again I will take Hamish and we will leave you."

I couldn't respond, the pain hit me like a wall.

A life without them?

I felt like I had swallowed my tongue (which I knew about, after a certain experiment).

"We will never come back, and please, make no attempt to contact us." John shifted forward and patted my hand "Sherlock. Do you understand? Will you promise me?"

I knew that this time, I would never even consider breaking the promise. "I won't. I swear it."

I knew this because I couldn't live, couldn't breathe without my husband and my son. That I would be empty, that I would be nothing, without them.


	8. Walking

Hamish shuffled along the floor on his bottom and wrapped his arms around the leg of the coffee table. He stretched his arms as high as they would go and pulled until he stood up. He had been doing this a lot lately but I still felt a surge of pride, warm and sure, leaving me beaming, shoot through my body when he did so.

His hands still clenched around the table leg, he shouted me excitedly, just in case I hadn't seen

"Fa! Fa!"

John was 'Dad' and I was 'Father', but obviously Hamish couldn't say that yet. I sat up on the sofa and leaned over and scooped him up in my arms.

"Well done, Hamish you'll be walking soon!" I clapped for him, a positive reinforcement technique, and he laughed in delight, his whole face alight.

"You're getting very good, that didn't even take a minute." I grinned at him and he clutched at my arm, obviously trying to stand up again on my lap. "Wait, wait. You're impatient aren't you? Let me put you down."

Hamish gabbled excitedly and I let him onto the floor. He immediately caught hold of my leg and attempted to drag himself to stand up. His hands tickled my leg. "Hamish." I laughed "Not with my leg." He sat down heavily and looked up in bewilderment.

This made me laugh again; I extended my arms to him and allowed him to pull himself up by grabbing my fingers. He immediately started making stepping motions on the spot, and immediately knew what he wanted.

I stood up, still stooped so that he wouldn't have to let go, and walked backwards around the flat backwards, leading Hamish so he could take steps.

Hamish started to get faster and faster, until he ended up tripping and dangling from my fingers. He immediately got up again; my son was obviously annoyed at himself for failing. His brow was furrowed in concentration and he got up within seconds.  
"Good boy Hamish." I cooed. I never thought I'd 'coo'. I began pacing backwards again; he was matching my steps. After a while, Hamish seemed to be bored so I sat him down.

"No." He said, extremely clearly. It was his favourite word. Normally, children his age wouldn't have known the meaning of the words they said, but it was obvious that Hamish did. Again, this the overwhelming feeling sent of warmth, fresh love and pride to somewhere deep in my chest.

Straight away, he reached for the chair (John's chair) and tried to get up again "What was it? I thought you wanted to stop?"

"No. No. No, no, no." He repeated the word until I went over to him and grabbed his hands again, only this time so that he would be stood in front and I would have to follow.

He glanced excitedly around the room, and headed for the stairs. I had to try and slow him down or he would fall again, but he was very persistent.

The door was open, as Mrs Hudson loved to hear Hamish's squeals and our laughs. Hamish went straight out and went onto the landing. When he got to the stairs, he let go of me and hung onto the safety gate, (which was directly in front of him, so he didn't need to take a step towards it) trying to make himself tall enough to reach the top.  
"What is it? Do you want to go see Mrs Hudson?"

Hamish just tried to find a way to get the gate open again then turned to me, his face expectant. "I guess that's a yes." I said as I lifted him up with one hand and opened the gate's latch with the other.

I ran down the stairs, Hamish poking at my face which he seemed to find extremely amusing. "Mrs Hudson. Mrs Hudson?" I called out and went into her flat; not bothering to knock "Hamish wants to see you"

Mrs Hudson was at the kitchen counter, baking. "Oh, dears! Hello!" She wiped her hands and took Hamish from me, who was reaching towards her.

She made faces at Hamish, who was now trying to reach behind her to the bowl with the last of the batter mix on the counter. She turned around and bent to the fridge, and gave him a small chocolate bunny from the fridge. It was the soft kind of chocolate, Milkybar, as made especially for babies with few teeth to eat. She kept a stock in her fridge for him.

Hamish instantly put it in his mouth, drooling, and made contented little noises. I leant over them and stuck my finger in the batter, tasting it. Mrs Hudson slapped at me with her free hand "Sherlock! There's some buns in the fridge if you want some."

"No, I like this better." I said taking out a spoon and eating more of the cake batter. "Sherlock." She moaned again but gave up, letting me eat the rest.  
"Where's your John?"

"Shopping. Probably arguing with inanimate objects again."

At this moment Hamish gave a small cough and I lurched forward, fearing that he had choked. But he just laughed again seemingly upset that his chocolate was gone. I laughed with him, and he reached out towards me.  
Mrs Hudson gave him back, her eyes suddenly filled with tears  
"What is it?"

Hamish looked at me, surprised by the concern in my voice and I rested my hand on her shoulder. He copied this action-not reaching-but the sentiment was there which caused the tears to spill over.

"Nothing, I'm just being silly."

"Mrs Hudson? Tell me." I said, slightly too forcefully. I wasn't sure of the right amount of concern to put into my voice or what I would need to do to get the information from her. Emotions of others were still confusing is they weren't coming from John or Hamish, whose I could read as easily as everything else.

"You, with him. It's so lovely."

I had picked a cloth from the sink and was wiping Hamish's face and hands, sticky with chocolate.

"Hmmm." I answered, hardly listening, Hamish looked really sweet when trying to bat my hands away.

"You make a great father, you know."

"What? No, I have no idea what I'm doing. I've endangered his life, and I can't protect him."

"But you're so sweet with him, and everything else a parent needs to be. All parents think like that. He adores you, you're great." She wiped at her eyes with a hankie. "I never thought I'd see you like this, and you and John. I never thought you were interested in anyone at all. But now…" She started crying again. "You're a family."  
"You're part of it too." I said simply and this made her break into a second round of sobs and walk over to hug me.

"Thank you, Sherlock. You're so good to me. Like a son. I'm glad you're finally happy."  
This sentiment really hit me, we were a family, a strange one but when we were together, it all just fit. Perfectly.

"Anyway," She sniffed "I'm going out for tea with Mrs Turner, let me get ready." She ushered me out of the apartment with a final kiss to Hamish.

I could still hear her blowing her nose from upstairs, bless her.

I walked Hamish around the flat for almost an hour before John came back and my back was beginning to ache. He went straight to the kitchen with the bags and I sat Hamish down in his car seat in the main room and followed him.  
"How was he?"

"Fine, how was the trip?"

"I gave a cheque. Bloody machine." I laughed and he started to put everything away.

"Hamish is coming along with his walking very well."

"He's still so young to do it Sherlock, I know he's well advanced in other areas but…"  
I began to help him with the shopping, something I never do, so this earned me a very welcome smile. "Thanks, love."

We finished packing away the shopping in half the time it usually takes John alone and wondered into the living room, hand in hand. I bent down and took Hamish out of the chair again, he had been trying to undo his straps again, and set him walking on my feet.

"That's cute." John said sitting on the floor. "Let's try something…" He indicated the stretch of the living room free floor space and about 1 metre away from him.  
I lifted Hamish into my arms and sat down with him on my lap. "No wait, a little closer." and I shuffled forward.

"Stand him up." I sat Hamish on the floor in front of me and allowed him to pull himself up using my fingers again.

I turned him around so he was facing John, anticipating his idea. Hamish looked straight at John, who raised his arms out "Come to Dada, Hai."

And Hamish, unsteady and unsure let go of my fingers and took the three steps into John's arms.

"Oh Hamish!" John cried hugging Hamish towards him.

John laughed and clapped, as did I, showering Hamish with praise. Hamish stood against John and beamed around triumphantly.

I looked at them both, so happy, my son just having achieved one of the most memorable and poignant milestones of his life, and felt a lump in my throat.

What is this? Oh, god. I fell like crying…I felt the tears well up in my eyes as I scooted over to join them. I was just so happy to be a part of this. To finally be in a real, functioning family and that my son, my son, had already achieved so much in his short life.

John was crying too, his tears falling onto Hamish's soft curly blonde hair. "He's so brilliant." John breathed. He looked up "You're crying, you never cry. I'm the sentimental one."

"Oh, shut up."


	9. Prejudice

The sun is bright today, meaning John would haul Hamish and me out to the park.  
"Why today? Everyone will be there." I asked as John collected stale bread from the kitchen for the ducks.

"Because it's sunny. I've made a picnic too."

"It'll be dirty, and there will be children there, John."

"I have a rug, and Hamish is a child."

"Not the same. It'll be packed. People John, everywhere."

"We can go into the woods, I that'll be deserted."

"Won't it be cold there?" Hamish was only wearing a light jacket due to the warmth of the sun but in the shade, he might get cold.

"No, it's special. Wait and see."

"John." I moaned "Tell me." He knew how I hated not having all the information. He just gave me a knowing smile and turned to strap Hamish into the pushchair.

"We're gonna feed the ducks, Hai. Would you like that?" Hamish garbled something which, to our ears only, was yes.

"See, he's excited." John stood up again and took my hand. "Come on, you'll enjoy it."  
I just mumbled something, keeping up the pretence that I'd hate every minute, but was secretly looking forward to the time with John and Hamish, now I knew that we wouldn't have to walk through hoards of complete idiots. John saw right through me, but didn't comment.

"We should have put him in downstairs." John said, wheeling the pram out of the apartment and onto the landing.

"I told you that before, love."

"When?"  
"While I was feeding Hamish."

"I wouldn't have heard you, I was in the shower."

"Were you? Oh, right."

"Why didn't you say something while I was putting him in?" John said opening the gate.

"Thought you had a different plan." I manoeuvred the gap between the pushchair and the stairs and picked up the front wheels. "We'll just do it like this."

John grunted and lifted the pram from the back and we came slowly down the stairway, me walking backwards and John looking worried that I might fall. "John, I'm perfectly fine walking backwards." Hamish giggled and threw his teddy out of the pushchair. He found extremely amusing to do this and then make one of us pick it up. "John, watch that." I said stepping over the teddy and planning to go back for it when we got to the bottom.

Hamish started crying, wanting his toy. "You'll have it in a minute." I said still watching my feet. When we were at the bottom I went past John to retrieve the toy.  
I leaned over the back of the pram and placed it in Hamish's hands and he was immediately quiet. "Simple." I murmured, he was always so happy and his happiness was so easy to come by, I hoped that it is always this way.

We walked down the street, John pushing the pram and my hand over his on the handle "Why couldn't we get a cab?"

"It's nice to walk sometimes."

We walked the rest of the way in silence Hamish gabbling away to himself. "Dada, Fa," Hamish called.

"Yes?" We said at the same time.

"Out."

"No, Hai, we'll be there soon you can get out then." John replied.

"No! Out!" Hamish said again, his voice strained close to tears.  
"No, Hamish. Wait." I said, a stern edge to my voice.

Hamish wailed "Out!"

John stopped the pram and sat on his haunches in front of Hamish. "Now Hamish. Stop crying, listen to Father and I or we will go home, no ice cream or swings"

Hamish quietened and was still for a moment "Duck?"

"Yes, you can feed the ducks Hai. Now you're being good." John smiled and stood up.

"Bored."

"Sherlock, how are you bored? We're walking."

"Boring."

"We'll be there in a minute."

"We'd already be there if we had taken a cab. Walking is boring."

John rolled his eyes "I don't know whose worse, you or Hamish. Want to push?"

"Okay." I said and took the handlebars form John and he his hand slipped over mine.  
We were there fast, despite the fact that having the buggy meant we couldn't jump fences or walls.

"Duck!" Hamish shouted, pulling at his straps

"Don't you want to go to the swing first?" John asked, unbuckling Hamish and carrying him.

"Down." Hamish demanded and John put him on the floor and took his hand "Duck!" Hamish yelled again.  
"Hai, you won't let go of my hand, okay?"

"Duck!" Hamish repeated but I saw his hand tighten around John's.

"Yes, okay." John laughed and they walked to the pond. I followed them, silently cursing everyone that got in my way. John didn't let me deduce strangers anymore.

Hamish tried to run forward too fast but John kept him at a slow pace. Half to walk closer to me and half because he needed to bend low to hold Hamish's hand.

We got to the side of the pond and John gripped Hamish's shoulders and bent down to get the stale loaf from the pram.

"Up." Hamish said and I picked him up, leaving the pram and gave him some bread to throw. John followed suit, and soon a few ducks came to the bank.

"Duck, duck!" Hamish said excitedly and John passed him more bread. Hamish didn't seem to notice that none of it had gone in the water.

Hamish was delighted with his new friends, especially the few ducks that ventured out the water to eat the growing pile at my feet.

When the bread was done with, we walked around the pond Hamish clamouring to get down. But we were too near the water and he wouldn't go in his pram. I didn't mind carrying him but John grumbled about having to push the pram around when Hamish wouldn't go in it.

"You hungry Hai?"

"Choc."

"We don't have any, and anyway you have to eat your dinner first."

John began to lead us to the 'secluded spot' he mentioned earlier and I whispered to Hamish about what the people around us were doing in secret.

John laughed as I told Hamish about a very round looking woman who kept 238 budgerigars and sang to the bird every night.

Hamish probably couldn't understand most of what I said, but he needed to hear a lot of talking, especially now, to improve his speech.

We were in the woods now and John through some very dense trees, moaning again about having to manoeuvre the buggy around the tangled roots. I pulled Hamish closer to me; it was cold in the shadows.

"Here." John said sighing. In the middle of the dense vegetation there was a clear, almost circular patch of land.

"Strange." I commented, not really caring how it got here, the sun was able to get through here so it was still warm.

John spread the blanket out and sat down. Taking the bag out with the food, he passed Hamish a quarter of a cheese sandwich. "Are you eating?" John had long since stopped forcing me to eat, and only asked knowing that I hated his mournful expression if I refused.

"Hamish will only eat that bit of his sandwich, he'll want the yogurt and ice cream. I'll have the rest."

Now Hamish was eating solids, I would mostly finish off his meals and only ate when I was specifically hungry or John cooked something good.

I finished quickly and ended up giving Hamish his yoghurt- he could feed himself but it usually went all over him- I offered him a second yoghurt (God knows why John packed 5) but he refused.

Hamish was sat in the middle of us, and I had just lent over him to kiss away some of John's yoghurt at the corner of his mouth when I heard a rustling from the trees and a group of 7 teenage boys walked through. They were all carrying fireworks, obviously wanting to set them off illegally.

"Urgh." The biggest one, who currently had a crush on the leader, moaned when he saw us.

The guy with the dark brown hair, the one in front and obviously the boss called "**" As I leant back form John, who was now blushing fiercely.

"He did that in front of a kid. He's gonna be well messed up. They'll probably turn him into a druggie." Said the tall one in the back who was only here to get away from his alcoholic mother.

I stood up, back to John and Hamish.

"Oooh, the dark one's getting haughty and wants to protect his boyfriend." Said the large one, in a mocking voice, too much laughter from the rest. "You shouldn't be allowed a kid. You're disgusting. Homos. Bet you fancy me too." He spat.

"Husband, actually. And you only act like this to stop anyone from guessing about you sexual orientation, and your feelings for him. And no, I find you revolting. Just because I love him doesn't mean I fancy everyone else in the male species." I said pointing to the leader.

"Ewww, no, I'm not one of you. I don't like c***"

"Please don't swear in front of my son. And, if that isn't the case then will you please explain why you keep inviting him to your house and taping him in the shower."  
The leader spoke up "That's sick, he wouldn't do that."

He turned to the large boy, who gulped and was flushed red. His act was up. "Oh my god. You did. You sick **. Get away from me."

The group ran off, leaving the large boy stood in front of me. He raised his fist and aimed but John was there, and be pushed the boy to the ground.

"I hope you'll learn not to judge anyone in the future. And if you do keep it to yourself."


	10. Birthday

Hamish is one today. One. A whole year has gone by since he was born, and back then I didn't even know if I wanted him, at least until I saw him. Why am I getting all mushy? I was never emotional before.

What have Hamish and John done to me?

John is insisting that we have a party. Hamish won't even know what's happening, or remember it but John says it's some sort of 'life experience'. That, if Hamish didn't have one, he would be the odd one out and that it might a detrimental effect on him in the future. Mycroft and I never had a single party and we turned out fine.

We had invited our 'friends', or at least people that liked John and family who were stuck with me. Molly and her boyfriend (who had three secret children and a wife that John wouldn't let me tell her about), Lestrade and Mycroft- who were now an item, Mrs Hudson, Harry and Clara (Harry had been sober for over a year and they had gotten back together a few months ago), a friend of John's from the army that had twins around Hamish's age and John's parents. He had wanted my mother and father to come but I refused. They don't like celebrations of any kind.

John won't let me deduce anything about any of them. Apparently, if one of them gets upset it will 'ruin the atmosphere' and the party will have gone badly. This was going to be so boring. I couldn't even sit with Hamish all the time as other people would want to see him; apparently they needed him on their lap and couldn't just look.

Hamish is on the floor playing with an abacus I bought him. Obviously not using it, he just likes moving the beads around. Though we won't give all Hamish his presents until later we have told him what day it is and he seems excited, at least about the balloons John is currently blowing up.

"Sherlock, will you put that stuff away?" He said, indicating the experiment on the kitchen table.

"It isn't 'stuff' John, I need to find out about these mould cultures and it needs to remain set out or it may change the structure."

"We have food to put out, move them carefully then." He sighed "Put them in our room if you have to."

"But they'll-"

"Sherlock." John said forcefully and I knew that if I didn't move them, he would and probably disturb something.

I took the Petri dishes into the bedroom and placed them on a free shelf in the wardrobe (something I kept on case I needed certain conditions for experiments and John hated – ("A brain near our clothes, Sherlock. Really?"')

At the bottom, there were stacks of presents for Hamish.

I would usually just buy him something as soon as I saw it or if it was something he seemed attracted to but apparently that's spoiling him so I have to space the gifts out.  
Despite this we were allowed to get him as many presents we wanted today. We had spent hours last night wrapping everything. John had got him finger paints, a bike with a handle so we could push Hamish around, play dough, a set with plastic food to 'play shop', a ball (which had been apparently a 'bugger' to wrap), some DVDs and teddies. I had bought him books; some which I would read to him (mostly fiction- Enid Blyton, Treasure Island all to set off his imagination) and some bright picture books, building blocks, a teddy, shape-sorting boxes, a tower building puzzle and for the first time; though this was special, it could be pressed and would help him play a recording which would help him to learn shapes and colours (most of the sites say he's too young for that but, obviously, he's very advanced). There was something else we had bought together for him, but that didn't fit in here.

When I came back in, John was stood on a chair putting up a banner and Hamish was laid on the couch with a bottle. "Why? Everyone knows what the party is for."  
"It's tradition, you know like Christmas decorations?" We had argued about those, and he had explained at length about a 'Christmassy feel' that made him happier, so I guess that this was a similar concept. "Will you put Hamish down for his nap, love? He'll need to sleep before the party."

I picked Hamish up and he immediately buried his head in my shirt and mumbled "Vi." When I took put him to bed I'd read or play him my own version of a lullaby. And apparently he wanted music today so I picked up my violin as we passed to his room.  
I placed Hamish in his cot and took the violin from its case. I brought the bow back and played long, high notes then longer baritone ones until I hear muffled little snores and he was asleep.

I went downstairs and sat on the couch, indicating for John to sit by me. "In a minute, I need to bring the presents out." I sighed, rolling my eyes "Why don't you help me?" I got up lazily, acting as if it was difficult and that I didn't want to, hoping for a certain reaction form John. I was rewarded when he took my hand and dragged me with him.  
I leant forward and whispered in his ear "Why don't we use this time more effectively?" And planted kisses down his neck.

John shivered and turned back to me so he could wrap his arms around my neck. We kissed; his lips as soft and serious as ever against mine, then he pulled away just as my hands travelled down his torso.

"No Sherlock. Not now, we have things to do. Everything has to be perfect."  
He opened the wardrobe and began putting the presents in a pile so he could carry them.

"Umph." I groaned, pouting. I sat down on the bed heavily.

"Don't you dare give me that face." He said, not looking around.

I gave up, he was far too stubborn right now, when he was a on a mission to get everything done.

"Though, if you helped me we might…" He was cut off when I almost wrestled a pile of gifts from his hands.

"Get the one we left at Mrs Hudson's." He said when I had taken the first pile in

.  
I ran down and went in "Mrs Hudson, I'm getting Hamish's presents!" I called. She was in the living room watching some cooking show on TV.

"You cook much better than that." I added kissing her cheek as I passed.  
"Thank you, dear. Will you tell me what that is now?" I went into her kitchen cupboard to get the present.

"Oh, I thought John had."

"No. What is it then?"

"I'm not telling." I said flashing her a smile and bounded up the stairs with the large cardboard box.

"Back!" I shouted, unable to open the door.

"Shhhhhh. Hamish." John whispered, opening the door.

"Are you done?"  
"Yes, love." John followed me into the living room, where I placed the box in the midst of the rest of the presents. "Come here."

***

We were sat on the sofa, John's head resting on my shoulder.  
We heard the door go downstairs and John looked to me.

"Mycroft."

We said together. "Oh, and Lestrade." John added, I had commented due to that fact being painfully obvious that they were together.

John jumped up from the sofa to get the door "Sherlock, go wake Hamish up. He's slept enough, anyway."

I leapt up the stairs so that I would be able to get up there before my brother came into the apartment.

Hamish was already stood up in his cot. "Fa!" He said in delight, jumping up and down slightly "Book?"

"Not right now, Hamish." I lifted him from the cot "It's your party."  
"Par?" He asked as I put him in the clothes John had picked earlier, a white shirt and some jeans (these were from Mycroft and apparently some famous brand).

"Party. Remember Dad told you?" Hamish looked confused and leant into me.

"Book!"

"I want to read too, Hamish." I said lifting him "But you'll have fun and you can eat ice-cream, you have presents too."

We came downstairs and Mycroft was looking down at the presents, undoubtedly guessing what each one was while John and Lestrade- maybe I should start calling him Greg, now he and Mycroft are an item- were talking about rugby.

"My!" Hamish squealed, reaching out for his uncle.

"Ah, Hamish." He took Hamish and then lifted up a bag with his other hand "I have something for you."

"Book?" Hamish asked hopefully.  
"No, your father always wanted books too, until he got older and was allowed science equipment. But that was when he was older than you are now no one read to him."

Hamish looked disappointed and Lestrade gave me a pitying look. People always did that when Mycroft talked about our childhood, I had found that our experiences were different to most people.

The doorbell rang again. Harry and Clara; Mrs Hudson came up with them. She was very dressed up. Mycroft let Hamish open his gift- a toy which spun and 'spoke' and would help him learn the alphabet, then passed him to Harry.

She cooed over him then gave him a present, a large teddy bear, and then gave him to Mrs Hudson around 5 minutes later who gave him a set of those cardboard books and a jumper she had knit.  
John went into the kitchen to make cups of tea for everyone, leaving me to play host. I stood and watched as Hamish 'chatted ' to Mrs Hudson, Mycroft, Harry and Clara were in some conversation and Lestrade had taken John's camera and was now taking pictures of Hamish.

Ugh, there were going to lots taken today. I wasn't as bothered now, but they were still irritating.  
I got my phone out and began looking up what the air in the wardrobe could do to my specimens. "Sherlock! Put that away!" John hissed, coming in with the tea.

"Yes, very good host, my brother." Added Mycroft taking a cup from John's tray. "No sugar, low fat milk?"

"Yes, Mycroft." John said pleasantly before I could explain how obvious it was.

The doorbell rang and John's hands were full so I went this time. Molly and John's friend Ray were there. Molly was bent over the pram talking to the twins in a high voice and baby talk. "Hello Sherlock." She said, standing up.

"Please refrain from talking to Hamish like that. I don't want him to talk like an idiot."  
"Yes, you've told me before."

A quick 'Hi' from Ray was added as he took the twins from the pushchair and left it at the foot of the stairs.

"Weren't you bringing a boyfriend?" Oh, no she dumped him, heard the call from his wife.

"Will you get Clementine, Sherlock?" Ray interrupted, before I could tell her that I knew about it all already. Ugh, other people's babies were sticky and irritating. Why were so many named so stupidly?

I replied with "Yep." And we walked up the stairs. Why do people think I like all babies just because I have Hamish?

Molly was chattering away about something nonsensical, a TV show or play or some celebrity but I wasn't listening. I just on keeping this child's hands away from my shirt- normally I wouldn't have minded but this was John's favourite, the purple one.  
We came in just as the door went again, John's parents. "Do you want me to go again, love?" I called.

But John wasn't in the room, the responding shout came from upstairs. "Yes please, I'm just changing Hamish." John's mother stood at the door, his father slightly behind.

"Sorry we're late, dear. Don forgot his wallet." she kissed me on the cheek.

John's father huffed past with a grunt. He doesn't like me at all; he thinks I turned John gay. Well, I pretty much did, John had never liked men before, but I had never liked anyone before so it evened out.

With two children in homosexual relationships, you'd think he'd be more open, but Don had grown up with an extremist Catholic mother (he didn't practice) so he was against it, though he swallowed this when around John or Harry.

John's mother rushed upstairs; it was rare they came down to see Hamish. If we went to see them the stay would be short as I couldn't be away from London in case work came up and I couldn't be away from John and Hamish for more than a couple of days either, so they couldn't go without me.

I peered into the street, hoping there was something interesting out there that I could use as an excuse to get out of the part for a few minutes.  
"Where's my grandson?" I heard from upstairs as I closed the door and ran up the narrow staircase. Finally Hamish would be able to open the things John and I had bought him.

"Here, Mum." John was just walking back in, Hamish playing with his hair.

"Grandma's here Hai!" He put Hamish on the floor and hugged his mother, Hamish immediately walked over to me.

"Book?" He asked longingly and reached his arms up to me.

"No, Hamish. But we'll see what you have when you open your presents." I picked him up, hugged him briefly and gave him to Sue (never Mrs Watson, it made her seem old).  
"You want to see what Grandma got you?" She asked and pulled out a large box from the bag she was carrying.

"Book?" Hamish asked again, expectantly.

"What is it with that child and books?" John's father asked.

"Sherlock usually reads to him after his nap, so he's missed out today. He's just confused by something different happening."

"He should be wanting to go outside. You used to run about all the time at that age, John."

"Hamish is different Dad. He'll probably hate sports like Sherlock."

"How can a man hate sport?"

I interrupted, seeing John's face get tense "They're extremely dull. And will you please stop inflicting your stereotypical views on us. It's my son's birthday, so if you want to argue I suggest we do it of his earshot."

John's father sat down sulkily and waited for his turn with Hamish. "Thank you love, but I can fight my own battles." John whispered in my ear.

"I know, but you hate confrontation with your parents and I wanted him to shut up."  
Meanwhile, Hamish had opened his present, a very large wooden train set. He was frowning at the box. "Do you like trains, Hamish?" Sue asked sitting down and bouncing him on her lap.

Hamish just looked over at me longingly, wanting his story. It took all I had not to wrench him from her grasp and go sit quietly in the bedroom and read to him.  
The rest of them gave Hamish their gifts (a set of cars and some sponge balls form Molly, a couple of action figures form Mike). Then it was our turn.

Hamish had slid off Molly's lap and was coming towards me, wanting to be picked up, I took his hand and went to the present dragging the twins away from the pile, Hamish himself had been looking at them for a long time, but he focused on other things, like his book, and the presents he was already getting.

"What first, Hai?" John asked sitting down and pulling Hamish onto his lap. The others had gathered round, but we barely noticed them.

Hamish reached for the largest present of all, the one we had kept at Mrs Hudson's. John passed him it and Hamish stood to get it open.

Everyone was watching in awe, and I think even Mycroft didn't know what was inside.  
"Wow." Sue breathed as Hamish tore off the wrapping to reveal the ornately carved wooden rocking horse.

"Go." Hamish said immediately as he saw the rocking horse through the gaps in the side. Whenever John took him shopping he's sit on the horse ride there and cry when they had to go so we bought him his own.

John laughed and opened the box with a penknife from his pocket, gazing at Hamish, his eyes filled with the same adoration I knew was reflected in my own. John slipped his arm around me, pulling me close. "I knew it was your favourite. Of course you can have a ride now."

"I always wanted one as a kid." John added, seemingly only just remembering the rest of the people there.

"Sherlock had one, but he got carried away when he was 7 and tried to motorise it so he could ride away." Mycroft said from behind me.

"He said." John ignored the smugness in my brother's voice. Mycroft was gloating, knowing that I wouldn't bite today.

When the wooden horse was out, I lifted Hamish on to it and pushed him. He laughed in delight. I knelt at his side, letting his laughter bubble around inside me, warming me, filling me. When John and I were married I thought my life was complete, now we have Hamish I knew that I was missing something back then and now I finally have it.  
The perfect life.


	11. Exploring

_**AN:** Thank you to anyone has favourited or alerted this story, and a special (giant) thanks to those who have reviewed. _

_Now taking prompts/ suggestions. (please?)_

* * *

Hamish was dressed in camouflage, reminiscent of his dad's fatigues, with a wide brimmed khaki hat. He bore a very striking resemblance to John as a child (Sue had sent an album), apart from the grey-blue eyes and curl to his light blonde hair.

We were taking him to a park, with a children's event on. They were to find 'animals' (people in suits) in the woods and there would be food after. There was also a bouncy castle and the characters form the woods would come out and sing.

That last part would be horrendous, but as he was able to walk further and better on his own, Hamish loved exploring things. This wasn't just for him; I wanted to see if he would be better at noticing things than other children his age. I had always had that talent, Mycroft says I used to point out the most abnormal things as a child so I wanted to see if Hamish could have it, despite his age.

It didn't have to be a biological thing, of course though Mycroft and I had got the ability from our mother, but it was a learned habit. And we learned very quickly.

John loved the idea too. He loved being outdoors and in the woods and hoped Hamish would be the same so they could spend time together there. I think Hamish will like those things, if they have a clear goal but he'll be more orientated around study and science as I am.

Hamish came over to the sofa where I was laid down and attempted to climb up "I thought you were with your upstairs." I said pulling him up and sitting him on my chest.

"Dull."

John had been cleaning up Hamish's room. Hamish liked to have all his toys out at once and John wanted it to be neat Hamish had been 'helping'.

"Oh yes, I find cleaning boring too." I said lifting him high.

"Don't I know it." Came John's voice from the doorway. He had brought Hamish down and had been fixing the gate again. "Sherlock, what did you do with the screwdriver?"

"I melted it in an experiment. Sorry love."

John sighed and added it to the shopping list on the desk. "We have to leave in 10 minutes anyway. I wouldn't have time to fix it."

Hamish giggled from his place in the air as I stood up, him still above my head and moved him through the room to give the illusion that he was flying "Wheeeeee." He squealed and tried to catch the lampshade. I laughed too, enjoying his happiness.  
I set Hamish down again and he staggered dizzily.

"Hamish the Explorer." John said grapping his shoulder and passing Hamish a bottle with a strap so he could carry it on his shoulder.

"Dora." Hamish said, referencing his favourite programme- behind Noddy, that is. I went into the kitchen to put the tub of maggots from the table back into the fridge. They would need to rest before I inspected their work on the next sheep's liver.  
"Yes, Hai we can be like Dora." John said beaming.

"Fa?" Hamish called out, sounding worried. He had become very clingy recently, which was probably why he came down rather than the boredom.

"I'm only in here, Hamish." I said waking back into the room. "And we're leaving now. Let me get your coat.

Hamish came over, took my hands and went back to John. He raised his free arm and said "Up."

"In a minute, Hai, when we're ready." John said and took Hamish's other hand.

"I need to go get the coats so we can go, Hamish." I said gently letting go of his small fingers.

He followed me instead, taking John with him. "It's fine Hai, he won't leave." John had a sad look in his eyes then, remembering the time I had left him before. Though he could convince Hamish, he didn't seem completely sure himself.

"No, I won't leave either of you." I reassured, squeezing John's arm. He still, after all this time didn't know whether I would have to go again.

We had been out on a case a few weeks ago and it had ended up that we had stayed away for almost two days. Hamish was with Mrs Hudson and she said he had been extremely stressed in our absence and that he was upset when we had said goodnight via Skype that we were 'TV', rather than real.

John and I had both hated that time away, but due to the lack of trains because of the strike and there not being any cabs in the village we were in he hadn't been able to get back while I worked on.

I think that Hamish is afraid one of us, or both, will just disappear again.  
I put my coat on the way in, turned the collar up, then passed John his and got Hamish into his. "Are we taking the pram?" I asked, John was more likely to push it so it was his decision.

"Well…he'll probably get tired, but it wouldn't be good in that forest. So we'll leave it."  
I picked Hamish up and we went down to get a cab.

It came quickly, and Hamish sat on my lap, looking out of the window. I told him about the buildings in a whisper while John listened to a broadcast on a football game on the radio.

* * *

The park had banners up marking the event, and we went inside, Hamish on my shoulders. "Fa, fa. Bird." He pointed to a pigeon on the ground.

"Yes, Hamish. You're finding animals already." We had only explained the concept to him once but he was very good at these things.

"He's so smart." John said proudly looking up at Hamish who was tangling his hands in my hair "So much smarter than any other kid I've seen his age."

"Did you expect anything less from our son?"

'Our' our son. I can't believe it, every time I say it. It's been over a year, but it's still strange to think that I of all people have a child.

A few years ago, I wouldn't have referred to anything as 'ours' I wouldn't have anyone to share anything with; I would have just said mine. Even if someone else was the real owner of something, or we had paid equally for it, I would always refer to something as 'mine', those people were mostly forgettable and John completely outshined all of the rest of the 'normal' people, and I always thought of him and Hamish before myself now. John beamed and took my hand, kissing the back of my palm.

"I love you." He mumbled, turning to me.

I reached up and brought Hamish down into my arms. "I love you too." I kissed him whilst Hamish attempted to put his arm around John as he did so.

John didn't used to like kissing in public, but I couldn't help it and he soon became accustomed.

We had been still for a second too long apparently, as Hamish tapped me and said "Go."  
"Yes, Hamish." I said tearing my eyes form my husband's.

"Yeah." said John, looking dazed "We're late anyway." He looked at his watch "They start in 2 minutes."

We ran up the slope and got there just as the rest set off. We collected the data sheet; we would take photos then show each person we'd spotted.

I put Hamish down and we took a hand each. "Dora." Hamish said, reiterating about the fact that he was going exploring.

"Yes, it's an adventure." John said as we swung Hamish off the ground between us. He giggled then demanded we do it again.

"Dog!" Hamish said, indicating the first animal. The man came towards us when he heard and gave Hamish a thumps up.

"You're the littlest on I've seen. And the first one to see me." He said in a mock growl and gave Hamish a lollipop while posing for a picture.

Hamish grinned and we went back into the woods, Hamish muttering about his "ex-por."  
He began to get excited and ran off "Stay close Hamish." John warned and Hamish slowed up.

"Me fast ex-por." He said and John began humming the Indiana Jones theme (he had made me watch it a while back, and though I had deleted most of the movie, that theme had stuck in my head).

Spotting the rest of the animals came easily, and I felt my chest swell.

We ticked everything off and headed back to the start. "Wow." Said the official as we showed her the results.  
"And you didn't help at all?" She said, raising her eyebrows.

"No. Hamish did alone. We wouldn't cheat." I said looking over to a couple, who were both cheaters- in every sense of the word.

"He was the third, and the other two are 5 and 6 years older than him."

"Well, he's highly intelligent." I said, getting irritated. This woman obviously had some deep-rooted Pharaoh complex, maybe due to her mother being hit when she was a child, so she had become the soul defender in her family.

"This deservers an extra special prize." She said, bending down to Hamish, who was looking towards the bouncy-castle longingly.

She gave Hamish a football and a set of colouring pens, which he immediately gave to John and bent to inspect an insect on the ground. "What?" He asked, wanting the name.

"Woodlouse." I replied and turned over a nearby rock to uncover more.

"Mine?" Hamish tried to catch one

"No." said John, pulling him up. "Dirty."

* * *

When the rest of the children came back, the show started and it was as irritating and loathsome as I had imagines, but Hamish loved it.

Hamish was the best of the children by far. He was good at noticing things. He was like me. But he would never have my personality; I would make sure he had impeccable social skills.

My son, a genius.

He was so brilliant. I picked him up from where he was sat looking for more woodlice, John let him knowing he couldn't have one. I hugged him to me and kissed his soft curls.

John noticed my expression "What is it, love?"

"Hamish. I don't want him to be like me."

"Well I do. I want him to be beautiful, intelligent and a great husband and father." John said cupping my face in his hand.  
I put my face in Hamish's hair and said against him "Thank you. But he might be exactly like me. Insult everyone without knowing, and never have friends."

"You're getting better with that, and you know it. And you can make friends when you want."

"It took me 20 years."

"Yes, but Hamish has both of us." He hugged me "We'll teach him properly. I know what your parents were like, and they couldn't have been good to grow up with."

"John, you're fantastic, brave, honest, loyal, kind, warm and loving. I hope he's more like you.


	12. Science

"Fa!" Hamish cried from my feet. I was examining a few of the crime scene photos Lestrade had sent me; he was getting better at showing everything, so I had to go out less.

It's better because I get to I spend time at home with Hamish and John and I don't have to see Anderson or the other Yarders. Obviously, if Lestrade had provided insufficient evidence or if I need to see the whole room at once I'll go there as usual.

Lestrade sometimes forces me to go anyway if I ignore him for too long.

"Shh, Hamish." I whispered, not looking down. I zoomed in on a cabinet in the corner. They were scratch marks there. It was obvious. Very obvious now. Why hadn't Lestrade mentioned those? They would have been at least 2cm in real life and where obviously made by fingernails. How could they not have noticed?

Hamish pulled at my pyjama bottoms "Fa!" He yelled in distress.

What's that mirror covering; it seems new, I can't see on here?

"Hamish I'm busy." I snapped, then looked down at him. His face crumpled up and his lip was quivering. He ran and pulled himself up on the sofa and curled up.

I should really comfort him, but the case. They needed me. So badly, they were utterly useless. There's a message underneath, I know it. I called Lestrade. "Move that mirror, now."

He was still there, so he immediately complied and I hear him gasp. "It says 'Revenge' in some of that fake blood stuff." He shouted to someone there "Anderson, how did not move this? Idiot. Get here now. I want fingerprint analysis on this mirror."

"Get me a close up of her hair." I demanded, if as I suspected, it had traces of fake blood, rather than that from the head wound I would be right. Hamish had come back over and he was attaching himself to my right leg. I need to walk, it helps me think sometimes.

"Get off Hamish." I barked. And he started crying.  
I was too involved in the case, obsessed. I had been ignoring him. I bent down and picked him up.

I still had the phone in my hand and I could just hear Lestrade talking behind Hamish's wails. "Sherlock? Sherlock? What do you think? Sherlock?"

"Lestrade, go away. I'm pretty sure even you imbeciles will have known about the issue with her brother." I jogged Hamish up and down on my hip. "Now please, don't call me again, I've upset Hamish and he needs me." I threw the phone on the couch and focused my attention on my son.

I had never made him cry before, at least not if he hadn't done something wrong and I was telling him off in which case it was justified.

This feels bad, awful, evil. I'm disgusted with myself. How could I have hurt him? I swore that I would never, ever put him at risk of being hurt again. This, though I didn't realise it until I met John, was almost as bad as physical pain, very unlike it, not as direct but in some ways a lot more harmful.

"Hamish, I'm so sorry. I was being silly." I kissed the top of his head "I will never ignore you again, can you forgive me?" I knew that he would, that he'd forget, but I wouldn't. I would know that I was able to do this if I lost control and got too involved in a case again.

I need to make sure that I don't do this again, I can't stand it. My child…so upset because of me. I can't believe I've done it again.

He looked up at me through wet eyelashes "Sci?" he asked, hopefully. He was still sniffing, though there weren't any tears.

I had recently done an experiment on the effects of paint on different foods, and I had got Hamish to help me with the non-toxic ones (they didn't need to be neat). He had loved it, and had wanted to help on everything since.

I had nothing for him to do right now. Well, I guess he could squirt in the coloured dyes that need to congeal before I add the fingers. If I put them with water in the bottle, then he would be able to get it into the beakers for me.

"I'd love you to help me, this experiment is very important too." All of my experiments were important.

Hamish smiled at me. "Yes." I carried him to the table and set him on my chair while I got everything ready.

When that was done, I lifted him and put him on my knee. "Now, Hamish, be careful with this." I said and handed him a used washing up liquid bottle with the pink diluted die in "Dad doesn't like it when we get stuff on the floor."

Hamish was very careful and he spilled very little on the table, he had amazing coordination for his age.

When he was done, he looked sad. I put him on the floor and he attempted to see over the table again "Thank you Hamish, you did well. Now, I'll look at the rest later. Why don't we play with your train set?"

John's mum had been asking about that, wanting pictures of him playing. John had somehow given her the idea that it was his favourite, though he had gotten bored with it after 30 minutes and left it in the middle of his room.  
"I look."  
"You can't Hamish, I need to look at these." I gestured to the plain fibres on the other end of the table "With my microscope."

"I can."

I sighed and lifted him back to my knee "This is hard though Hamish. You have to close one eye and leave the other open."

I pulled the microscope towards us added the fibre then focused it. I lowered it so Hamish would be able to see.

"Okay, so if you put your eye to this." Hamish leaned forward and put his face against the microscope.

"Not on it. Back up a bit." Hamish lifted form the lens and tried to look through. "Now close this eye." I said, tapping the left side of his face.

Hamish closed both his eyes, then tried and failed to open only one. I let him so this for a few minutes, then he began to get agitated I reached over and put my hand over his left eye. I could feel his long eyelashes against my palm.

"No, no. Keep them open." I instructed as he closed his eyes again. "Now, scrunch up your eye, like this." I said pulling a face so that I was squinting. He giggled and after a few tries, was able to squint properly.

"So look down here." I pointed to the eyepiece.

"I see!" Came his gleeful whisper.

"Very good, Hamish. Fantastic! Do you want to look at another?"

John came in just as I was slipping the next slide in. "My two scientists." He commented kissing my forehead and ruffling Hamish's hair. "No kiss Hamish?" He asked and Hamish gave him a look that clearly meant 'I'm busy' and he chuckled softly.

"Sherlock why aren't you dressed?

"Oh, I forgot." I said only just taking note of the fact that we hadn't got dressed today, Hamish had slept late, anyway so I was going to change him after lunch but then I got Lestrade's message. "How was work, love?" I asked, he liked the mundane things. Of course, I knew exactly what had happened already.

"Good, good. I see you two had fun." He looked at the mess on the table.

"I made him cry."

Hamish pulled at my arm, impatient. I quickly slipped the fibre in and he looked back at it.

"And that upset you? It happens all the time. To all parents."

"But I was never going to." I said, stroking Hamish's head soothingly. Whether the gesture was for me or him, I'm unsure.

"It was going to happen one time or another." John turned to put the kettle on.  
"How can you be so calm? He was upset, and it was all my fault" I was beginning to feel angry at myself again.

"Sherlock, don't worry. Please, it's completely fine. Come here." He said pulling me into a hug. Hamish grumbled as he was between us and John blocked him form the microscope.

"I thought you'd be angry." I admitted, biting my lip and looking at him.

"No. You can't be perfect all the time Sherlock. I know that you'll do everything you can not to let this happen again, but it will. And remember that it is fine, and he won't even feel as bad as you do. Also, he'll forget after a day or two at the most."


	13. Easter

**_ AN:_**_The idea of and Easter fic from a friend,_ **WarpedInTime. **_The next chapter will be a continuation of this._

* * *

Hamish had been far too young to eat chocolate at Easter last time, never mind the whole concept of it. And by that I do not mean the real reason for Easter, but the children's fluffy-bunny-who-hides-chocolate-eggs Easter.

Even John had passed over it as Hamish wouldn't have been able to eat anything anyway, not having teeth yet, but now he was very excited about showing Hamish everything.

I didn't really understand why we had to lie to Hamish. Well, John said it was 'boosting his imagination' about a rabbit that made him chocolate egg, came in the flat and hid them all over. I didn't bother arguing too much though, John had won with Father Christmas and I was beginning to understand that. He was a very whimsical, elusive character and Hamish looked delighted when we took him to Santa's grotto a few months ago (though he had pulled at the fake beard, tangling his hands in it, so John and I had to run off with him). Though Father Christmas was obviously a bribery tool, and this Easter Bunny was something just to give kids more chocolate.

I knew from past experience that Hamish definitely had a sweet tooth, so this day was going to be something thoroughly enticing for him. It also gave me an excuse to hide things from him, and then see if he could follow (simple) clues to the next location.  
After this, a few other eggs would just be hidden without clues so it wouldn't all be hard work for him, but that would still be a way for me to watch how well he would do at assessing a location.

At this age, I would be able to see how he developed, and like the challenge at the park, I expected him to do exceptionally well.

I laid awake in bed, John's head on my chest when the alarm on his phone sounded. It was 5am, Hamish usually woke around 6am, so we were going to get up to hide everything before he awoke.

John yawned and sat up to turn of the buzzing phone. "Oh, you're awake already." He tapped the phone then snuggled into me, burying his face in my shoulder. "Just five more minutes..." He mumbled sleepily against my skin.

I wound my arms around him and left him there for ten minutes, I could have laid like this all day…

"Sherlock. I said five." John said, once I woke him.

"I know but I was comfy."

He shook his head at me fondly and then got up to get in the shower. I went to the wardrobe to get the eggs then sat on the bed and read a book that John had told me too. Apparently, my knowledge of literature is 'ridiculous' so he's been getting me a lot of his favourites. Right now it's 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy'.

John came out of the shower, smelling of coconut and mint, and I went in after.  
"Sherlock?" He called, walking into the bathroom whilst I was still showering.

"Exactly how many eggs did you buy?"

I'd asked Mycroft to get them, special ones so that they all had messages on in icing and I didn't have to go out anywhere. Even the tiniest ones, the size of a bee had letters on. Then of course there were the branded ones, making sure that he would be able to taste everything.

"47." I say turning to face the shower head. "But some are tiny, not even a mouthful"  
"But still, it's a bit…excessive."

"I wanted him to have everything."

"Oh, love. I know you never had Easter growing up. If you weren't soaking wet I'd hug you." At that same moment, I'd finished and I jump at him, ready to drench him. But he was out of the door too fast, shutting it on me and it was too cold to follow him.

I got dressed quickly, and John embraced me as soon as I'm done. With his head resting on my chest, he says "I really shouldn't have left you go get the eggs. I don't know what I was thinking."

"You don't like them?" I break away and pick up one that has an intricate picture of a teddy on.

"No. No, they're the most beautiful eggs I have ever seen." He grabs my hands, putting the egg onto the bed "Really."

I lean forward to kiss him, then pull away swiftly and run to the living room "Let's start then."

"Tease." He grins at me before chasing after me.

John begins to hide the eggs around the room, in the kitchen, in our room and on the landing. I place each in a specific place so that I will be able to instruct Hamish later.  
I'm done a long time before John is and I go to help him "Maybe we should have given him breakfast before this."

"Give him toast in his room, so he won't see anything."

As if on cue, we hear Hamish's shout from his room "Bunny!"

"He remembered." John walked towards the monitor "I'll make you some toast, you can eat in bed."

"Choc!"

"Breakfast first, Hamish." John says sternly. "Hide the rest while I'm giving him breakfast." He whispers in my ear as he walks past.

I oblige, and am done quickly. John was eating with Hamish. John comes down, Hamish on his hip already eating an egg. "He found it on the stairs," He explained. "He's too good."

The eggs I've hidden are all in golden wrappers, and I have put them in places he won't search.

"H-gh-I Fah!" Hamish shouts, his mouth filled with chocolate.

"You can have one more before lunch." John tells him, placing him on the floor.  
"Go on then, see what the Easter Bunny's hidden." He encourages and Hamish shoots straight to the sofa, seeing a bright blue shiny egg.

He finds almost every other egg with a similar ease.

When he's found the last of those, with a few hints, I toss him in the air. He giggles in exhilaration "Well done Hamish! Impeccable!"

He looks down at me confused. "Perfect." I clarify.

I pass him to John who hugs him then sets him down, and he looks up at me. I told him about this extra hunt yesterday.

"Go to the hottest place." Hamish frowns for a few seconds then goes straight to the, hardly used, fireplace, getting the first egg.

"Wow." John breathes. "I didn't expect him to get it that fast.

"He's wonderful at it." I murmur, not wanting him to hear. The rest of the clues are pretty much the same, though I do change some a little to make them harder and he only needs hints for one out of the 12.

He seems to have loved it. He runs up to me with the last of the eggs beaming. I catch him under the armpits and spin him high.

"Fa. I did it!" He squeals, still spinning.

I bring him down before he gets too dizzy and he reaches for John.

John kisses his chocolate layered check and walks to get a wet wipe to clean him up "Well, that was amazing Hai. You're just like your father."


	14. Dinner

_**AN:** Continuation of the last chapter, suggestion by_** WarpedinTime. **_Prompts/suggestions for further drabbles?_

* * *

"Hamish!" Mycroft laughed as Hamish ran at my brother's legs, seemingly attempting to knock him over.

He picked Hamish up, who promptly wiped his face on Mycroft's white shirt. Hamish had just eaten his second Easter egg (a very small one) so he got chocolate all over Mycroft's suit.

"You told him to do that, didn't you?" Mycroft asked, holding Hamish slightly away and getting out a handkerchief.

"No." I said, suppressing a chuckle.

"I'll get you a cloth." John said and raised his eyebrows at me, questioning. I nodded minutely and he rolled his eyes.

"Thank you." Mycroft said and pulled Hamish back to him. Hamish promptly buried his face in Mycroft's shirt again and I couldn't hold back a laugh.

"You so did Sherlock." Accused Lestrade.

John came back in with the cloth and Mycroft cleaned Hamish's face, preventing further mess, before cleaning himself up.

"Are we going now?" Lestrade asked, impatient. "We have something for you in the car for you, Hamish." In response Hamish put his arms out to go to him.

"Bunny at Gre and My's?" Hamish asked, wondering why all the eggs hadn't been hidden.

"Yes, he wanted you to have it specially." Lestrade told him.

John went out to get the coats "Why are you insisting on this?" I asked Mycroft, annoyed.

"I've told you." He sighs "It's what people are supposed to do. I thought you wanted to give Hamish all experiences we never had as children"

I stayed quiet, not wanting to admit that he was right. I did want to go out to lunch, but not with Mycroft.

"Easter is supposed to be for families." He added, knowing my train of thought.

"Mrs Hudson is family" I retorted.

"You didn't invite her?" He asked, rolling his eyes. I was getting a lot of eye rolls today.

"You didn't tell me to." I protested and ran down to ask her. "Mrs Hudson!" I walk through her door, hoping she hasn't slept late "Do you want to come with us to dinner?"  
"Oh Sherlock, of course!" She said emerging from the bathroom. She seems a little dressed up, likely in hope that we'd ask.

She promised to meet us in the car as soon as she heard us come down. I walked back up, almost colliding with John

"This is going to be boring." I say, loudly enough for them all to hear.

"You wanted to go out anyway, what's the difference if they're here." John whispers back.

"They're irritating. If I want to talk I have to wait until they finish."

"That is common etiquette, Sherlock. It's good to socialise."

"But I only want you and Hamish." I grumble and he hands me my coat.

"You'll be fine. Hold my hand and talk to Hamish."

"Fine." I say and go to put Hamish's coat on him.

A few minutes later we are in the car, which Mycroft had ordered especially so we could all go together. I buckle Hamish into the car seat that was already in there and mumble in his ear for the whole journey.

"So, Sherlock this is your first real Easter?" Lestrade asks, trying to sound casual.  
"If by 'real' you mean celebrated, then yes. Although if you don't I've had an Easter every year of my life." I say rapidly, as he interrupted me, telling Hamish about how my latest experiment was important (John was the only other person who'd listen).

He begins again and I sigh and tell Hamish I'll finish later "Of course I mean celebrating it. Mycroft said that you never do anything." Mycroft himself had tried to celebrate with colleagues every few years, but it never went well. He wanted to see what it was like.  
Then we came up to the restaurant and as we got out Lestrade was still looking at me expectantly.

"Well yes, as I said. I never did, as a child and it always seemed absurd to me when I was older. Though I always wondered. The last few years, John and I haven't really done anything for various reasons."

By then we were sat at a large, round mahogany table. John was on my right and Hamish was in his high chair on my left.

"Toad-in-the-hole or fish and chips, Hai?" John asks looking at the kid's menu and indicating the pictures.

"Toad!" Hamish giggles. The name is half of the reason he likes it at all.  
Mycroft orders a bottle of wine and a small juice from the over side of the table.  
"And are you eating?" John asks. He always asks me, even though he knows I'll say yes because it makes him happy. Though I hardly ever eat what he calls a 'proper meal'.  
"Yeah. I'll have salmon."

"You're supposed to have a roast at Easter." Lestrade buts in and John gives him an icy glare.

"Let him eat what he wants, it's hard enough getting him to have anything at all."

"I'm not a child." I retort.

"I know. But you don't always eat what you need to, or consider what's socially acceptable, those qualities are the norm in children. But it's not your fault."

Mrs Hudson 'Awhhhs' from her place on the other side of the table and Lestrade mimes being sick as I kiss John and there's a catcall from another table.

John goes red as I let go then turns around and realises it's his sister. "Oh, Harry. I thought you were in Paris."

She comes over and hugs him. "No, I had to come back." Then she turns and picks Hamish up. Harry still holds a grudge against me for all the pain I put John through, and I don't blame her.

"Why?"

"Erm…"

"She spent all her money on going to a fashion show, and then a few designer clothes." I say and John groans.

"I told you to be careful with that. But it's fine, you're not skint now are you?" He reaches for his wallet. I had made him begin to take money out of my trust fund as soon as we were married, he was reluctant but the whole 'what's mine is yours' thing got him to give in, as he had refused beforehand.

"I wasn't going to mention it…" She glares daggers at me "Though I have no idea why I didn't think he'd know. Anyway, I was just talking to the bartender, an old friend, to see I could get a free lunch. If I budget I'll be fine for the rest of the month." She pushes his wallet away.

"You want to eat with us?" She beams at him and a waiter brings an extra chair and she puts Hamish back down.

"Thank you."

We order, John coaxing me into sharing his extra plate of chips and talk until the food arrives.

"You two are so affectionate, you know and you hardly notice it." Harry says, she's been watching us over her lamb for a while.

"They're so sweet, aren't they?" Mrs Hudson coos. Hamish bangs his plastic spoon on his high chair, and he's finished already. He must have been hungry, even John hasn't finished and he practically inhales his food.

"Good boy, eating all that Hamish!" I say, looking at his plate again. "Where did it all go?" I poke his tummy and he laughs.

I look back to Harry, and John's waiting for my answer rather than saying anything himself.

I hardly even notice what I'm doing anymore, it's so natural but the times we kiss at random, hold hands or just touch each other in a loving manner are more frequent that other couples I've observed.

"Well, yes. I love him and I hug or kiss him whenever I feel like it." I say and John squeezes my hand under the table.

"Awwwwh. You're so cute!" Harry says, and goes to talk about an old schoolmate that's now in politics with Mycroft.

It's not long until everyone's done and discussing dessert.

"I-cream." Hamish calls, understanding the conversation without being asked.  
"He's really intelligent, you know." Lestrade says, his eyes widening. "Kids are usually at least 2 and a half before they listen in and understand adult conversation."

"It's his way of observing. I think he watches Sherlock a lot." John replies proudly.

* * *

I order a cheesecake and eat in silence, they're all talking about some old TV show I've never heard off (or just deleted) and Mycroft has gone outside with a phone call. John is still holding my hand comfortingly.

"Bunny!" Hamish yells and there's a waitress walking towards him with a large teddy.  
"It is Hamish. Well done." He only knows a few animals so far, and the bunny was obviously learnt very recently.

"We're giving them to all the children today." The waitress says and puts it in front of Hamish on the spare section of table.

"Mine." Hamish tries to grab for it but can't reach over the table top of the highchair.  
"You'll get it dirty. Are you done with your ice cream?" I ask him and point to the cream mush in his bowl.

"Bunny!" He says again and I guess that means he's done and reach for his bag to get wet wipes for his hands.

"Thank you very much." John says to the waitress, withdrawing from the conversation. "He loves it."

"Ta." Hamish says obligingly.

"It's fine really, especially when even the littlest ones have good manners." She smiled and goes back to the kitchen.

"Oh that was lovely." John says examining the rabbit as I clean Hamish's hands and move his dish, then wipe the table so he doesn't put the toy in the mess.

"Yes, this is one of my favourite places." Mycroft says, coming back in. "You're all done?" He looks around "I'll pay." And he languidly calls a waiter.

* * *

"That was better than I expected." I whisper to John as he unlocks the door to our flat. Mrs Hudson having just gushed her thanks downstairs.

"I knew you'd like some of it." He says right in my ear.

"Hamish certainly loved it." I sigh and then turn to take him upstairs to his room, careful not to jiggle him and wake him.

"Well. Maybe we'll do it again." John chuckles when I come back downstairs.


	15. Doctor

_**AN:** Idea for this supplied by_** Lunabell Marauder Kynte **xx**  
**

* * *

Hamish was watching 'Come Outside' and Auntie Mabel (I really shouldn't know her name, I've deleted it multiple times, but Hamish watches that programme too often for it to be effective) was visiting a hospital. She marvelled at the doctors and explained what happens at a hospital and the work that the doctors do.

Hamish was sat on the floor and John was on the laptop next to me on the sofa whilst I, read over his blog over his shoulder, correcting him.

John was getting irritated with my constant interruptions so I backed away and watched the TV with Hamish. He was staring at the screen in amazement

"Dad does that, you know Hamish." I said.

Hamish turned around, his eyes widening in shock "Dad doc?" He asks, confused. He was too young to pay attention to our work.

"Yes, Hai. Like on there." John points to the TV.

"Make better?" Hamish asks him, wondering again about the doctor.

"Yes. He's the best. He's helped a lot of people that others thought couldn't get better." I say honestly.

John reddens a little, as he always does with praise. I was a little worried that he wouldn't like my explanation of his job, so simplified that it hardly held the real value. In the army, John had gone out onto certain mine fields, heavily occupied with enemy soldiers to save people. Those that the others had left, saying that they couldn't be saved even in the best hospital, never mind a camp in the middle of a desert.

"Wow." Hamish says. Hamish had been fascinated by the idea that someone could make anyone better like that. And he grasps the concept of John's work a lot easier that I thought.

"I know." I tell him and turn to John who beams at me and plants a small kiss on my cheek.

"Dadda?"

"What is it, Hai?" John leans forward and puts his laptop on the sofa next to him. Hamish shuffles over to us.

"Make dog better?" Hamish runs to the over side of the room, where his box of toys were by the kitchen and pulled out a toy dog. Down its left side, there was a large rip and stuffing was falling out and its button eye was falling off.

He came and handed it to John, who made a show of examining it.

"I think he can be saved, Hai." John looks down at him, trying not to smile as Hamish stares at him in awe.

John goes into the kitchen and roots through the cupboard for a needle and thread set. After almost 5 minutes, he comes up with a needle and white thread, luckily it's the colour of the dog's fur. He takes the dog from the kitchen surface and comes back the sofa to sew. Hamish is sat on my knee now, playing with my hands.

"Dog better?" He asks as John sits down.

"Not yet." John smiles and holds the needle up to the light to thread it. He pushes in the stuffing and sews up the dog's side with impeccably neat stitches.

He finishes and sews in the eye quickly. "Here, Hai." Hamish had watched him go through the whole 'operation', demonstrating an amazing attention span, this being the longest I had seen his focused on one thing.

"Better!" Hamish squeals, hugging the teddy to his chest. "Good doc Dadda." Hamish says seriously to John, eyes filled with amazement.

John laughs at this but I can see that he's proud at this small compliment.  
"Thanks, Hai. I have to go to work now." He gets up but Hamish grabs his hand "I doc too."

John thinks for a moment then picks him up "Okay, you can come with me." He picks Hamish up and they go to get ready.

Ten minutes later they come back and we say bye.

It seems strange being alone now; I'm hardly ever left unless I'm working. I go through various stages of boredom, finish 3 experiments on body parts Hamish can't see and wonder around the flat until they come home.

Hamish has a stethoscope around his neck and is gabbling about "Doc, better. Dadda bes' doc."

"He announced that to everyone who came for an appointment." John puts him down and comes over so we can kiss.

"And where did he get the stethoscope?" I ask and lift Hamish up as he runs to say hello, having got another of his stuffed animals, with a leg almost hanging off and giving it to John - he likes to play 'experiment' with them, and they suffer for it.

"Dadda bes' doc." Hamish says to me again, seemingly making sure I understand.

"I know. I told you." I tap his nose.

"Dadda make people better."

"Yes, he does."

"Make Fa better?"

"He can, I wouldn't let anyone else. And he made me better in every way you can think of."

Hamish considers this for a while and then goes to John, who had gone out to make tea.  
John had done the late shift, so we ate and then put Hamish quickly to bed, missing his bath just because it had gotten late.

John goes up to read to him and comes down very quickly. "He kept talking about 'doc' and that he wants to 'make everyone better', like me." He rubs his face warily. "He went to sleep quickly though, he was very good at the surgery. A lot of the ladies cooed over him, and even let him 'examine' them."

"Good. And he's right to be proud of you."

"It's so sweet."

We curl up on the sofa and John puts on a film, a part of my 'education' as he refers to it.

The next day, Hamish insists on wearing his white dressing gown, and still has John's stethoscope around his neck like a scarf.

Hamish then brings down all his stuffed animals from his room and lines them up. He picks up a toy horse and pushes the stethoscope to it, and puts the too-large ear buds up to his ears.

John and I sit on the sofa and watch him. He hardly notices what we're doing as he's too focused and seems to be having a conversation with each animal as he picks it up.  
Soon, he seems to get bored with the unresponsive patients, and turns to me. This is around fifteen minutes later, and John had moved to the desk to write a letter to a friend of his that was still serving in Afghanistan.

I was laid back on the sofa, half listening to him and thinking. Hamish gets up and climbs onto the sofa.

"Hello." I smile and lift him so he's sat next to my head.

He immediately crawls down the sofa and presses the stethoscope to my chest. "No." He says, he's nowhere near me heart so he can't hear it.

"Move it around." I leave him to see if he can find it, from navigation. I stay still, making sure he can play properly.

"No heart." Hamish announces after a few minutes, annoyed. He doesn't mean it literally, or rather figuratively, but John and I both cringe, remembering the night at the pool, Moriarty's words.

"Of course he has a heart, silly." John comes over and moves the stethoscope to my heart. "Just because you don't always see it, well hear it, it doesn't mean it isn't there." He ruffles Hamish's curls and goes back to the desk.

Hamish listens to the earpieces, completely mesmerised.

Again, he gets bored very quickly. John's finished writing and puts the letter in an envelope.

He looks over us for a moment, chuckles to himself and disappears to the bedroom. Oh God. He comes back in the room with his first aid set, just as I anticipated.  
He kneels on the floor and lifts my shirt sleeve, then bent over the first aid kit and took out a bandage. He carefully wound it around my forearm with quick, practiced, neat motions.

Hamish watches him thoughtfully "Fa bad arm?" He asks, worried.

"No, I'm fine. Dad's just showing you how to wrap a bandage, like a proper doctor."

Hamish claps his hands in excitement and watches again, intensely.

John pins the bandage in place with a safety pin from the box. He hands Hamish another form the box and I move my other arm so he can copy what John's done with ease.  
"Fa arm better." Hamish says and takes the bandage, which John has started winding so it won't come off, loving his new game "I doc."

"Yes, you'd be a good doctor, Hai." John says, looking through his box for more bandages so Hamish can do this again.

Hamish winds the bandage around, and I lift my arm in time so he can pass the roll of cloth under. When he's done, he sits back on his bottom and looks at my arm

"All better."

"Can I sit up then?" I ask.

"No." Hamish says sternly and crawls down the side of the sofa to my leg. "I make leg better."

"Oh yes, it does hurt." I say "Thank you for fixing my arm Doctor Hamish."

Hamish nods seriously and takes the second bandage that John had begun winding. He does this one quicker, and sits back, pleased.

"Leg bad." He moves to my right leg and starts the process again. John and I share a look meaning 'he's not going to stop all day, is he?'

An hour later, almost my full right arm, half of both of my legs and head are covered in bandages. John goes to get the camera, chuckling to himself.

"Very, good Hamish. I'm all better now."

"Yes."

"Maybe not, Hai," John comes in, places Hamish next to my head and takes a picture, grinning. "He needs medicine."

"Yes. I make better." Hamish agrees and they go to the kitchen.  
They come back in, John carrying a spoon with a dark brown, almost black, liquid on Hamish's medicine spoon.

"Sit." Hamish orders and I move to sit in front of him. "Eat." He takes the spoon, spilling half of the warm liquid on my trousers, but I say nothing. He forces the spoon into my mouth and I swallow. Ugh. No sugar in the coffee at all.

"I'm all better now. Thank you doctor." Hamish looks pleased with himself and then turns to John.

"Hungry."

"Okay. I'll get you a special doctor lunch" I have no idea what he means by this, but I follow. I think Hamish really enjoys this and that he'll want to play it a lot.

* * *

_Note:'Come Outside' is a children's TV program where Auntie Mabel and her dog, Pippin, go around the country to factories, shops, schools, cafes- pretty much ever place of work or interest, and explains the functions of these places in a way that children will understand. I used to love it _


	16. Seaside

"Sherlock, are you ready?" John says as I was just putting the eyeballs in the freezer.  
"Yes." I sigh, I wanted to finish this now, but I've put off this trip three different times now for cases. I walk into the hall and take one of the bags from John. He's packed a lot, even though we'll only be away for a week. Hamish has clothes for every eventuality and quite a few toys.

"Okay, so in there you have the hotel information and the map."

"Don't need it."

"You haven't been there before."

"I looked at the map earlier, and the directions you printed out."

"Huh, but it still makes me feel safer if we take it. What if we need to change direction?"

"I have my phone, which has maps. And I've memorised the one in here anyway." I indicate my head.

"Sherlock…" He says warningly.

"Okay fine. We'll take it."

Hamish is looking up at the bookshelf "Book." He says, worried that he won't get read to while we're away.

"I have a few packed, Hai." John tells him.

"Go." He comes over and reaches his arms up to me, seeing as I have the smaller bag, and he knows he can't go downstairs by himself- it's still dangerous for him; those stairs are far too steep.

"So you're excited?" I ask, bending down to lift him. It's his first holiday and he seems to be really happy to be going, John has spent hours telling him about the seaside and showing him pictures of the beach and the place we're staying in.

"Sea!"

"Yes you can paddle."

"Fa sea?" he asks as we walk out to the hired car.

"Erm. No probably not. I don't see the point."

John gives me a look that says 'he's going to be upset now'.

"Fa. Sea." He says as I strap him into the car seat and move around to the front car door, and open it so Hamish can still see and hear us even if we're outside.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive, love?" I ask, John had had to re-take his driving test when his leg got better, and even so we drove anywhere so rarely he had hardly drove since he earned it.

"You don't have a license."

"So? I can still drive."

"It's illegal."

"I think the police force owe me a little, don't they? They'd let me off."

"You're forgetting that you've ** off almost every one of them, so they'd want to get revenge."

"Dadda!" Hamish says from the car, impatient.

"One minute, Hamish." I answer for John then bends down so he can see my face. "But driving for a long time makes your shoulder stiff."

"I'll be fine. I don't want you getting arrested and ruining our holiday." He gets in the car, and I follow suit, laughing.

"Yeah," He starts the engine "You wouldn't-" I stop I was about to say "You wouldn't last a day without me." But then I realise, when I did leave- to keep him safe, he barely coped.

The engine on this car was thankfully loud and he had to rev it a few times to get it started, so he hadn't heard "What, love? Sorry I couldn't hear properly."

"I was agreeing with you."

And finally he set off. Hamish had been quiet for the whole conversation, and now perked up "Fa. Sea." He insisted. I turn so I can look at him from my seat.  
"Why?" I ask, challenging him. Hoping he'd have to think, use a new word.  
"Fun." He says after a moment of thought.

"You sound like your Dad. And I might."

"No."

"What do you mean Hamish? Do you not want me to go in the sea now?"

"Go sea."

He wanted me to say yes, not that I might. "Yes, I'll paddle." I sigh and he grins.

***

I go into the bag at my feet; John puts the rest in the back and brings out a book. I read to Hamish for the rest of the journey, until he falls asleep.

"How many times have you been here?" I ask in a hushed tone. John had told me he'd been to this place, this beach as a child but not how many times. He hadn't mention that he'd been more than once, but seemed that he had.

"Mum and Dad took us here three times, once when we were really little, I was probably Hamish's age. Then when I was older, seven I think. Then the last time was just before I was shipped out."

I look at him, wondering why he's take a trip with his parents at the age of twenty one.  
"It was something to do together, so we'd have good memories. So I'd have something good to remember if I was killed." He explains.

"Oh. Nice sentiment I suppose…but very morbid."

"Yeah. Happens a lot with soldiers."

I squeeze his thigh comfortingly and we talk quietly for the rest of the drive.  
We pulled up to a little Bed and Breakfast with a trellis.

"Quaint." I comment, John had told me to look at the website for it but I hadn't bothered.

John turned to the boot to get the bigger suitcase out and I went to get Hamish. I unbuckle him and lift him into my arms, we had set off at 6pm, because we had been working on a case only this morning, meaning that we had to give time to pack and get everything else ready. Thankfully, it was easy so we hadn't needed to cancel.

He stirs and opens his eyes for a few second then snuggles into my shirt and goes back to sleep. I stroke his hair to soothe him and wait in the hall as John gets the room key.

"Up then, we're in the loft."

I let him go up the stairs first and hollow trying my bed not to joggle Hamish too much so he wouldn't wake up. John opens the room, which is surprisingly airy.

I put Hamish down in the cot, after having prised away his fingers from my shirt, and tuck the blanket around him. John kissed his forehead and whispers to me, "He's so cute when he's asleep."

"He's always cute."

"You know what I mean, Sherlock" he sighs, tired from the driving. "What do we do now?"

John goes into the bag I was carrying and pulls out his laptop. "We could watch a film…but you have to be quiet and no complaining." He pulls me down so where both sat in the bed, and the laptop is balanced on both our knees.

I pout at this, I hate holding back. He pulls my face round to kiss me and says "Okay. If you're quiet and it's something you really need to say."

***

"Up." John says, pulling the covers away as he sits up.

"I thought you were supposed to sleep late on holidays." I say without opening my eyes. I can see from the light filtering through my eyelids that it's just past dawn.

"Nope. We have things to do. And you know I normally wouldn't wake you, love, with how little you sleep." He gets up and goes to pull the curtains open.

"What's so important?" I say and pull myself up on the bed. John winks and leans over the crib to pick Hamish up, who had woken at the sound of our voices.

"Sea?" He asks, excited.

"I'll tell you later, when Father gets in the shower."

I turn to him and check him, seeing what I'll find in his appearance to what he's planning.

"Won't work." He says, putting Hamish down on the bed to change him. "Keep still." He instructed as Hamish tried to get up to get a toy on the nightstand.

"I know. Nothing new." I sigh. He knows exactly how to avoid telling me things he wants to hide if needed, which makes him infuriating.

Not that he ever hides anything from me, but he has some romantic idea about 'surprises'. I stare at him again, but he's too good at this. He hands Hamish to me, who's now fully dressed and goes off to the tiny shower cubicle in the bathroom in the corner of the room.

"Stubborn." I grumble to Hamish and sit him on my lap so he's facing me.  
I hear John laugh to himself in the bathroom and turn the shower on. "I think it's nothing important, and he's just messing with me." I whisper to Hamish, who just stares and reaches out to hug me.

"Oh. Thank you Hamish." I hug him to me and kiss his hair.

John comes out of the shower after a few minutes and I get in, thinking over what he could have planned. I pause in the bathroom and listen for John talking to Hamish "I won't say anything until I hear the water, Sherlock." He shouts. Why does he know me so well?

***  
We stand outside one the pavement and John has a small backpack containing a book, the map and a picnic lunch. "Where are we going?" I moan as he gets the pram from the back of the car (he had put it in the morning we left) and unfolds it.

"So we're walking somewhere far away?"

"Yes." He says and turns away so I can't look at him properly.

I pick Hamish up and walk a few yards away with him "Where is it Hamish? You can tell me, Dad won't mind."

"No." He giggles and slides down from my arms and runs to get in the pram.

"He won't say anything, it's a game for him." John tells me and we set off.

I frown and bend down, still walking to whispering to Hamish, so close that John can't here "I'll give you ice cream if you tell me where we're going."

"No." Hamish laughs and taps my forehead.

"John." I groan, standing up.

"No. I'm not telling you. This is the furthest we've got with a surprise."

"We could be going to the sea, the arcades, the shore cafés, the fairground, the souvenir shops or the pier." I say, judging by the street we were going down.

"Did you memorise the whole map, Sherlock?" He asks, laughter in his voice.

"I was memorising the route here and I ended up memorising the town too. Is it one of those?"

"Maybe. But probably not."

"John!" I cry and he laughs at my tone. I'm pretty sure it has to be one of those, the map can't be wrong and that he's only said that to put me off.

"This is good for you, not knowing something. Teach you what everyone else feels like all the time."

"But-" I stop him in the street and grab him, kissing him furiously and say against his mouth "Tell me where we're going love, please."

John stays silent for a second, dazed then I hear a firm "No. Not going to work." I pull away and walk sulkily in front of him.

"Hurry up." I order him crossing the road (I'm sure we're going to the beach, the only one of the options which would include a picnic), if we go faster I'll find where we're going quicker.

"This is supposed to a holiday, so we relax." He answers, keeping his infuriatingly slow pace.

We pass a small café with ice-creams in the front window "I-cream!" Hamish yells from his pram.

"No, remember what we have packed." John says, talking about the pineapple (Hamish's other favourite) he has in the cooler. I was surprised when he's found that at the tiny corner shop down the road from the B&B, but it was fortunate.

We keep walking, getting closer to the sea, and I'm pretty sure that my theory is right, unless it's the pier, but with John I can never be 100% he can elude me in ways no one else can.

Now we're near the steps that take you down to the beach and I sigh, content that I had been right the whole time. I bend to pick up the buggy and walk towards the stairs. "Nope." John says and put it back on the ground in a huff.

"Where?" I moan, swinging my arms and striding off.

"Wrong way."

I walk back to him, pouting and annoyed. "You're gorgeous when you're confused."

"Not confused" I follow him as he sets off. "I just haven't been given the details I need."

"Annoyed then." Then he mumbles under his breath "Confused though."

I hit his arm and he laughs.

"Child!" He retorts, I smirk at this and put my hand over his on the pram's handle.

"Please?" I ask again, playing on all of his weaknesses

"No. We're nearly there now anyway." I look around, but there's only the sea in the direction where we're going if not there.

He takes a sharp turn to the right, we're now an uneven path, and drives the pram over the grass. "This wasn't marked on the map." I say, looking around.

"I know." He answers shortly, not giving anything away.

"So we're going somewhere private?"

He doesn't answer, focusing on getting the pram over the long grass. I look around, the sea is underneath us, and we're at the beginning of the cliffs. "Sherlock, you could help." He says, as more rocks begin to fill the path.

"Take him out, I'll push the empty pram, it'll be easier." John lifts Hamish from the pram and puts him down then and takes his hand firmly.

"Now Hamish. Don't let go of my hand at any time." He instructs and sets off on a path about 6 feet from the cliff's edge, Hamish on the inside.

"'Kay." He says, trudging along happily behind John. I am behind them both, wondering what we'd do on a cliff. John takes a path that winds back into the cliff, that's almost noticeable then goes across a muddy patch that diverges from this. I follow, annoyed that I haven't figured this out yet.

He goes through a small group of trees, and we come out near to the cliff edge. The grass is shorter, softer here, and there are patches of the chalk showing through almost pink. The cliff itself reaches out at this point, and I can hear the waves crashing beneath it below.

From here, the sea looks as if it's lit, by the way the sun reflects off it. Each wave rolls slowly, before braking in a magnificent rush against the rock face. We'd been getting gradually higher as we walked up so we could see more from here than before. The sky meets the dark blue waves seamlessly, and we can almost the cliffs of another coastline. "Wow." I breathe, looking around again.

John chuckles and puts his arm around me; he now has Hamish on his other hip "I didn't know if you'd like it. You don't usually look at these things." We stand about 10ft form the edge of the cliff, gazing at the blissful view.

"I appreciate any beauty that I see, even if I don't hold onto it." I say and kiss him lightly.

"Oh, it's stunning, isn't it?"

I nod and we sit down, still facing the outer edge of the cliff.

We spend the rest of the day there, laughing and I show Hamish a few games I'd made up as a child with stones, adapting them as I went so that they would fit more than one player. We eat lunch, John and I frequenting glances at the view. "We found this, ages ago, it's one of my favourite places, I would imagine this place while I was in Afghanistan, to keep calm so I could sleep. I wouldn't have thought it could have been improved upon. Until now."

He leans forward and hugs Hamish, who's on my lap, to him and we sit and watch the sun go down, still in the embrace.


	17. Toad

**AN:**___Thank you to everyone who has alerted, favourited and especially reviewed this. Here's some fluff (seriously, this is the fluffiest thing I've ever written) _

I had borrowed some toads, alive, to experiment on. The experiment itself was simple, a test on the reactions to food based on different stimulus. So I had them in a small tank in the living room, next to the bookshelf.

Hamish was fascinated by them, there were three in there, and I would find him staring into the tank at random intervals. When I took one out to start the process, he had followed me and attempted to climb up my leg to get onto the chair.

"Toa." I lifted up so he could sit on my knee, and I could still work around him. I had told him about the toads, and the experiment, he had wanted to play with one, but it was likely to affect something in the experiment if he did so.

I reached for the earwigs and put the toad in a small bowl of warm water. "Mine." Hamish said and tried to grab at the toad, knocking over the bowl in the process.  
"Hamish!" I scolded, annoyed that this might upset the experiment, the toad was now hopping around the table, knocking over test tubes and beakers. "If you're going to sit with me you have to keep your hands away."

Hamish frowned at me and his face crinkled, he disliked being told off and this was something very rare so it upset him.

"Sor Fa." He said, sniffling.

"It's okay," I lean to pick up the toad, thankfully the chemicals on the table were not harmful and put it back in the bowl. Then I turn Hamish around to face me, seeing the tears well up in his eyes. "Nothing bad happened, but Hamish, you can't touch him."  
Hamish scowled, and John, who had walked in to put the kettle on, said "You look like your Father when you do that." I roll my eyes, but he's right.

Even though in Hamish and I are not biologically related, his small mannerisms, while still in development, mainly reflect my own. He even has his own way, upon meeting someone knew, of deducing them. He'll look them up and down then announce whether or not he likes them. John says it's his age but I think it's something more. As well, of course, as the surrogate looking uncannily like me- something that had been assured by Mycroft.

Hamish's frown deepened and he looked at John and I in turn, making sure that we both knew he was annoyed. "Why?"

"Because I need the toads for the experiment, and interfering with them will interfere with the outcome of it."

Hamish looked at me, confused.

"Father means that it will make his test go badly if you play with the toads" John explains. "And Sherlock, can't he play with them after you're done?" He pours us both a cup of tea.

"They're experimentation animals, John. It would make them faulty. But I guess…we could lose one." I take the cup from his hand, and sip.

"He'll love it. Hear that, Hai? Father says you can play with one of the toads." He gushes to Hamish.

"Mine toad?" he asks, wary and turns back to the table. Scared that he'll be told off if he touches it again.

"My toad." I correct and John gives me an incredulous glare. "And only when I'm finished, okay?" Hamish sits back against me, waiting for the experiment to be over so he can play.

"He's eighteen months old, you can't correct his grammar, Sherlock."

"I can. You just mean I shouldn't, which is also ridiculous."

"Whatever. But he's still a baby, he can't speak full sentences yet."

"Just because he can't fully yet, doesn't mean he can't speak properly."

John shakes his head at me lightly, and gives up knowing that I won't change my mind and that it won't negatively affect Hamish, in fact the opposite.

John went into the bedroom to hunt for his camera, wanting to take pictures of Hamish and the toad, but it in 'My first pet' section of a book he'd bought.

I shuffle forward on the chair, Hamish mumbling as I joggle him, and feed the amphibian. I change the temperature of the water after, watching to see if the toad eats the second thing slower or faster than the first. I carry on like this, without water, freezing water, in a confined, boiling water and others then log my results (and by that I mean internally, I never write down my notes).

On the third try, Hamish had sat up, bored of just watching "I do it?" He says, indicating the earwigs. I hear John throwing things from the cupboard in the bedroom, and am not entirely sure if he would let Hamish do this. "Love, can Hamish hold dead things?" I hear something else clash to the floor, a box of old clothes from the sound and he walks back in, still camera-less.

"What?" he asks worried that I was talking about something serious.  
"I said, can Hamish hold dead things?"

"No, no I heard you….just it's not a normal question to ask a dad of his eighteen month old. And you mean the earwigs?"

I nod, picking up their container "Yes, I guess so." He says, probably thinking how he ended up like this, not in a regretful way. But in a 'My life is so different to what I predicted' kind of way. And goes back to look for his camera. He has these things neatly ordered, but I end up moving them, and delete their location.

I turn to Hamish then and take an earwig firm the bow, and show him to pinch it between his thumb and forefinger.

"No, at the end." I murmur and move his fingers so he is holding the insect at its end. "Okay, now hold it out." He does this, but is unable to reach. I stand him up on my lap and he leans across the table. The toad darts forward and takes the insect, and Hamish giggles in delight.

"Toa eat." He says, going for a second cricket. "No, wait a sec." And I change the stimulus, logging the toad's reaction. Hamish feeds the toad for all of the rest if these, and John still hasn't found the camera.

I look over the table, and it's right there. S**. I forgot about that. Or in other words, elected not to mention it.

"Erm, John…?" I call, hoping he won't mind.

"Yeah? He asks, coming up from where he's on his knees looking under the sofa.  
"I know where the camera is." I take the melted hunk of metal and slide it over the table, but he can't see from that angle.

"Why didn't you say before? Thanks." He gets up and holds out his hand.

"I don't think you can use it." I say and he sees what I'm holding.

"Sherlock! What the fu-bloody hell did you do to it? All my photos, Sherlock!"

"I was in the middle of the experiment with the wood grain and it got in the way of the acid test."

"But all those photos, I only have copies on the laptop of the ones I sent to mum."

"Oh, don't worry about those." I say and slide off the chair, putting Hamish on the floor,  
"What do you mean?" I take out my laptop from the chair.

"Well, I made you something." I say, embarrassed, I never make anything.

"Made?" he asks as the computer loads.

"I saw it on a website, when I was looking for birthday gifts, it said that homemade gifts are more meaningful, so I thought I'd try."

"Oh, love." He says, his face softening. He picks Hamish up and we sit on the sofa.

"Here" I load the file and show him the file. "I was going to print it out, add music on a small recording device that you can press"

"Is that what you were composing?" He asks, then the images load. I've arranged all of the pictures of us, all the way from a week after we'd met, including those in the paper, to our wedding, to a few days ago when we'd taken Hamish to the park. This was a large collage, with a few small paragraphs of things we'd both said, including our vows. I watch his face while he looks at all of these, and he smiles fondly at all the memories. He scrolls down, sees the whole dedication I'd written to him.

_John, I can't believe that you've stood being with me this long. I'm nowhere near good enough for you, you deserve someone a lot better, with a kinder heart, but you chose me. And I am very lucky that you did. Lucky that you didn't run off when I asked 'Afghanistan or Iraq?', knowing more about you from a glance than you'd prefer most people to know at all. Lucky that you accepted me for who I am, thought of me as a real person. Lucky that you waited, and I know how much it cost you, while I was away. That you let everyone think you were crazy telling them I wasn't a fake, that you didn't leave me when I came back; hating me as was your entitlement._

_I didn't believe in luck at all before you, or in fact love but you taught me that, that there is always hope. How to love. And then, bafflingly, agreed to marry me, making me happier than I had ever_ been. It was your decision to have Hamish, and you knew better than _me how I'd feel when he was born, something I'd never had before, he's completely wonderful. _

_You limped into my life, and we fixed each other, you making me a person. Before, I was more like a machine, non-human- emotionless. But you completed me in that way and, my John, made my life better than I ever could have imagined. I love you, so much it feels like I can't breathe sometimes, an involuntary chemical reaction, and I want to thank you, for letting me feel like this, and for reciprocating, something I would have thought impossible._

_I wish I could explain this better, show you more of the way I feel, how proud and thankful I am for the ability to call you 'mine'. You're not ordinary, don't ever think that. I never thought of you of anything but an equal. _

_I would have never thought that I could feel anything like this, how you have the ability to render me speechless at times, that you are so beautiful, so amazing, perfect. And, my god, I'm sorry to repeat myself, but I love you: so much._

"Sherl-ock" He stammers, his voice hitching. "You-you…" Tears are streaming down his cheeks and I wipe them away with my fingers. Hamish had fallen asleep as soon as we sat down, so he was on John's other side, his head on a pillow and his feet in John's lap, snoring lightly. "I can't believe you wrote all this, that you even did it."

"You mean you didn't like it, don't you." I sigh and click to delete the document.  
"Don't you dare." He grabs my wrist, and hold onto my hand "It's amazing. Thank you for writing all that. I love it, I can't even describe how much." He grins and grabs my face.

"Then why are you crying?" I ask, still worried.

"Because it's just so..so lovely." He answers and kisses me.

"Oh" I say, and fall into him.


	18. Zoo

_**AN:**__Prompt from _**anonoffical** _on Tumblr. _

"Lion." Hamish says as I show him the picture of the mammal.

"And this?" I hold up a picture of an elephant

"Ell-phan." He replies.

"This one?" I ask, showing him a penguin. This one was in the other category, and we hadn't done it recently.

"Peng-in."

"Well done, Hamish. So you'll be able to tell me all of these when we go to the zoo?"  
"Zoo. Yes. Lion."

"Is that your favourite? What noise does it make?"

He opens his mouth wide and "Roaaaaaars" next to my ear.

"I'm scared of the big lion." I say and he giggles and jumps onto my lap, hitting at me softly with his 'claws'. I laugh "That tickles, Hamish." I say and lift him above my head on the sofa, where he still reaches out at me.

"We'll just wait for Dad to get back."

"Doc?"

"Yeah, Dad and I only solve the crimes together."

John and I had explained that to Hamish a while ago, John saying that I saved people form the 'baddies' and put them in prison. That I would help when the police couldn't figure things out. I said that he would always help me, noticing things that weren't in place with tradition for that kind of person or time of year, those things that I deleted.

"Home!" John announces as he steps through the front door, unnecessarily.  
"I know. Just a little bit of an obvious statement, isn't it?" I say, which is almost a tradition now

.  
"Shut up." He says lightly and picks up Hamish, who ran at him as he came through the door. "Hi Hamish." He adds, kissing Hamish's cheek.

"He made you something" I say and pick up a picture.

The piece of paper has Hamish's drawing of a lion on it. For his age, almost 20 months, it's extremely developed. It has a vague circle as a head, another circle (well his version of one) as a body halfway across the page and close to this 5 sticks, the legs and tail. Along the bottom, unbeknown to Hamish, I have written 'Lion, Hamish Watson-Holmes, aged 19 months, 3 weeks and 2 days' both for his file and so he won't have to ask what it is, dismissing Hamish's work- he had been doing this all morning.

"Oh wow, Hai, what a fantastic lion!"

Hamish beams and leads him to the fridge, indicating for him to put it up. "Very accurate, Sherlock." He adds in my ear before he walks off.

"Are we eating there?" I ask. It's 11 o clock and Hamish will be hungry soon.  
"Yeah, they have these fun themed meals"

He goes to get changed, and I put Hamish's bag together and take his pushchair downstairs.

John is down a few minutes later, and we get into a cab. "London Zoo, please." John says and we set off.

"Hai, where do you want to go first? The birds, the jungle animals, or fish?"

"Or the polar animals- the penguins and polar; white, bears?" I add.

"Lion!" Hamish says, and we laugh at this predictability.

"We'll eat first though."

***

We get to the zoo a while later, and eat. Hamish has a sandwich cut specifically and decorated with other foods to resemble a lion. John had a burger with chips, and I picked form his plate and put away the bit of sandwich Hamish didn't eat, trying to rush so he could go see the lions.

"Li-on!" He stresses as John sips his coke.

"I'm nearly done. Be patient, Hai."

"You could hurry up a bit, love." I add.

"God." he finishes the tea in one gulp "You two are way too impatient." He grumbles.

"Hamish is a toddler, he doesn't have the ability to wait for that long."

"Well, whatever. And I know you will always be this impatient, but do you never just want to sit down for a while and relax?"

"Boring."

He 'tuts' quietly and lifts Hamish form the high chair and into the buggy, brushing crumbs from his clothes. "Me see lion!"

"I'm going to see the lions." I correct and wait.

"I go see lion!"

"Sherlock…." John says and I shake my head at his protest, I don't mind the fragmented sentences, of course that's natural, but I see it that it's my duty to make sure he speaks properly.

John stops on the pathway from the café "Did you pick up a map? I don't know which way…"

"I looked at the one in the reception while you bought the tickets. It's to the right of here."

"Okay." He says and we head off, John leading slightly as I push Hamish in the pram.  
On the way, we pass the tiger enclosure and stop to look "Ti!" Hamish yells at one, and attempts to get it to come over. The tiger lifts its head form its paws slightly from where it's laid on top of a rock pile and then falls to sleep. This therefore means that Hamish gets bored, and we set off to see the lions, whose enclosure is fortunately next.  
The end of their enclosure has very thick, un-mown grass, probably the closest they could get to their natural habitat. At first, it seems to be empty, and we go to stand next to another family that seem to be looking too.

"Here lion!" Hamish shouts as I bend to un-strap him from the pram so he can get closer.

The family next to us has a boy aged seven and a girl of around two. The woman, who has recently lost her job but too afraid to tell her recovering alcoholic of a husband (the tickets for here came from a newspaper, I can see the cuttings sticking out of her bag), bends down to Hamish, who is still shouting "Lion!" and points to something in the distance.

That's when I look at the field for the first time. In the corner, laid almost flat in the grass, in the grass is one, single male lion. "Look there." She says to him quietly and he follows her finger

"Good!" He announces, mostly to himself "Can't see." He moans after a second of searching.

"Thank you." John tells the woman and I lift Hamish up to see the lion.

"There, you see?" I say as he goes back to following the lady's finger.

"Lion!" He yells in delight, elongating the 'o' sound. "Roar!" He shouts at the beast, who ignores him.

"They're her favourite too." The woman simpers, balancing the child on her hip.  
Then, the crowd around the enclosure begins to grow. "What's happening?" I ask, annoyed that so many people are here, ruining it.

"I did schedule the a little, Sherlock. I thought you'd know that. It's feeding time." John replies and puts his arm around me so Hamish is between us.

The keeper comes through a gate to the right hand side, with a hunk of meat on a long stick. The lion gets up and trots towards him. The zoo keeper, who was stealing some of the animals' food to fuel a strange habit-judging by the dust and parts of food in his stubble, told everyone to keep quiet then began to lead the lion closer to the thick fence.

Hamish reaches out, closer to the fence, wanting to touch "No Hamish." I say and pull his hand towards me. "My lion!" He whispers, not looking away.  
The zoo keeper lifts the meat in the air, and the lion- who seems extremely docile now and it occurs to me that it may have been hand-reared- stands on its hind legs to grab it. Hamish is holding his breath in anticipation, amazement. Both John and I have ceased watching the show, and are watching his face. The keeper feeds the lion a few more chunks of the meat, and Hamish watches all of them in amazement.

He walks out after, and the crowd begins to disperse. The lion then goes into a hut at the edge of the field, so it's only us and the family from before left. "Down." Hamish orders and he and the little girl, who had asked the same a few minutes later, run to the side of enclosure where the lion had disappeared to.

"Hamish." John and I call together, just as the woman shouts out

"Emma." And we set off after them. John begins to make polite conversation with the woman as we walk; something about the weather or a change in parliament, nothing important.

The two children are now at the very edge of the fence, and are laughing at something. "Don't run off, Hamish." John scolds "Now take my hand." and reached for Hamish.  
"Ooops." Hamish says, and the girl, after receiving her own telling off, giggles.  
"Emma!" Her mother says, and then Hamish turns to her.

He stares at her then announces "You good."

"Nice boy." She tells him then turns to her mother "Get me lion."

"I can't, dear, sorry."

"I get!" Hamish says to her, walking closer to her. "Roar!" He shouts through the fence. "I talk to it." He explains.

The girl copies him, and we end up laughing at them, John taking out a camera. Hamish says "He sleep."

"Yes, we go now." Emma agrees, and then tells her mum "We go with them."

"Do you think that would be okay, these too seem to have made friends, and I want to hear more, I've seen you in the papers. Read the blog." She says to John, her cheeks flushing.

"Yeah. Fine." John says, and we walk off.

"What your name?" The girl asks Hamish.

"Hamish. You Emma." He says.

Her mother, who John is calling Elizabeth, looks surprised "I know I said her name before, but I didn't think he'd take that in. Strangely observant." She raises her eyebrows at me "From you, I guess?"

"Yes. He copies me a lot." I answer shortly, her husband cancelled on this and they're close to a divorce, judging by how much she takes off her ring, but still polishes it.  
We walk around the rest of the zoo together, Hamish liking the monkeys and jellyfish the most, and we end at a park.

"Swing?" Hamish asks us, and I nod.

"Go on, I'll push." And walks off. He stays still "Come on then, Hai!"

"No. Emma." He says, and waits for the girl who is getting a drink from her mother.  
"Oh, that's so cute." Elizabeth says. "I'll come with you then, Sherlock." And we go towards the swings while John goes to buy warm drinks.

We get the swings, the pushchair just behind me, and I haul Hamish in.  
"Emma." Hamish giggles, as I push him higher.

"I go high." She says and looks at her mum, an indication to be pusher harder.  
After a while, they both get bored and go off to the slide together I take Hamish's hand as he goes up the steps above me. "Stay there, Hai." I tell him then go to the bottom to catch him- he's likely to end up on the floor. "Go." I tell him and he comes down.  
Emma, who's behind him, follows a few second after. Hamish attempts to catch her, but I pull him out of her way, getting hold of her myself. "You're too little, Hamish. If she was smaller than you, it would be okay."

"Thanks, I didn't think she would go that fast." Her mother says.  
John comes back with the drinks, juice for the children, and we sit down on a bench. Elizabeth tries to pay him, but he refuses "No, Hamish is hardly ever like this with other children. I love to see it." And she quietens, mostly due to her lack of money.  
"Well, we'll do this again then? These two seem to really like each other." John nods and they exchange phone numbers.

Hamish, who is sat next to me and Emma, says (John being opposite with Elizabeth, holding my hand over the table) "Emma. Friend."


	19. Shopping

**AN:_ Updating sooner than usual because these two were short (especially for Lunabell Marauder Knyte because she's lovely). Also, what would you think of a separate fic where Hamish is older? Oh and more of Emma?_**

* * *

John and Hamish come in, John laden with bags and Hamish trotting along in front of him, his face slightly red "Sherlock, can you go get the rest of the carriers and pay the cabbie, please?"

I'm sat at the table, dropping oil solution onto a bluebottle to preserve it, concentrating deeply so I hardly look up as they come in. John plonks the bags on the table.  
"I'll do it myself then." He huffs and runs back outside.

Hmm, maybe I should have looked up, helped him. I could have done this a little later. Oh. Hamish is at my leg, patting it.

"Up. Fa, me up."

I squeeze the pipette and coat the last millimetre of the fly with the solution, and reach down for him. I place him on my lap and take off his coat.

"Did you have a good time?" I ask, the experiments done now, or at least until everything's dry.

"Dull."

"I thought you liked shopping."

"No. Dull."

"Did you go on those rides? That usually improves the trip."

"No." He says, pushing out his lower lip.

"Why not?"

"I bad." John comes in at that moment, frowning.

"Oh, hi love." I say turning to him "I'm sorry, I didn't think. I was finishing this." I indicate the slides of preserved insects in front of me.

"Yeah okay. I just wish you'd help more." He begins to put the shopping away.  
"I know, I do try. Hamish, why were you bad?"

Hamish looks away from me, the crumple in his t-shirt and jacket tell me John had needed to grab him, but he's always attempting to run off and it wouldn't usually provoke this reaction, so I thought there must be something more. He will always come back if not caught after a few yards though, to a shout, never out of our sight.  
"Tell me what you did, Hamish." I say evenly, lowering my tone slightly. Hamish attempts to climb off my knee, but I keep hold of him. "You can go play in a minute, what happened. You've already been in trouble for whatever it was, so I won't shout."  
He sits there, still silent, refusing to look at me properly.

"He ran off, knocked into some woman, kept going and almost went out of the doors." John eventually speaks when it becomes clear Hamish won't.

"It's natural for children to rebel against orders like that, he's just developing his sense of independence."

"You're not defending him!" John says indignantly then turns to open the fridge, "And about helping me…?"

I stand up, putting Hamish on the floor, who then runs into the living room and curls up in front of the television and look in the carrier bags on the table. "No, of course. I'm with you, I'm just saying that it's to be expected, not that it's a good thing."

"Oh, okay. I knew that, but it's awful when he does it, I had the trolley, I had to abandon all of it, and the friend I was talking to, because he'd decided to run off."  
"I thought those trolleys had seats in for children." I say, picking up the butter and heading for the fridge.

"They do, he threw a tantrum when I tried to put him in. I was too tired to force him in, so he didn't get the usual chocolate either."

"Oh, well does that technique work?"

"I guess." He says and puts away a box of cereal, the last thing in the bags. "He doesn't seem as bad as other children. I mean, mothers have brought two year olds into the surgery because they're too hyperactive, and they throw too many tantrums. Hamish is extremely good compared to them."

"I don't have experience with other children, but according to the books and blogs, and how ahead he is in development, he has shown little of the expected tantrums or fighting. Though he does have the stubbornness, but that's likely to just be his personality. What with you as a father."

"And you're not?" I'm at the desk, looking through new ink samples, and I look across at him, smirking.

"Not like you."

"Yeah?" He says, getting up from the sofa.

"Yes, John. You're way more stubborn that I am. Admit it."

"No." He wraps his arms around me, pinning mine to my sides.

I wriggle in his arms and turn so I can kiss him.

"And you can't make me." He adds.

"I bet I-"

"Shhhhhhhhh." Comes a small voice from the sofa, we'd both practically forgotten Hamish was there.

"Later." John whispers in my ear. "And next time I go shopping, Hamish is either staying with you, or you're coming with us."

"But he needs to go out and watch you shop, for the social interaction and to learn the methods and look at all the different foods!" I protest, this is one of the few times I'm able to do the more 'gory' (John's word) experiments, and for the next thing I'm planning, there is no way he could be here.

"Then come with us."

"And if I don't?"

"Well, obviously Hamish misses out on learning something new."

"Hmph." I moan, he's got me. I can't have Hamish missing out, so I'll just have to go with them.

"Sherlock." John shouts from the doorway "I told you we were going 5 minutes ago, how are you still on the laptop?"

"I'm ready." I reply, which is true, I could leave at a moment's notice.

"Then let's go." He replies, and lifts the laptop from my knee, turning it off.  
"But…" I protest, trying to grab the machine back.

"Sherlock, you promised you'd go. I don't care if you have to inspect types of tattoo ink, that can wait. We need food now."

I get up, the word 'promise' had done it, I can't break a promise I'd made to John. I just can't. "Okay." I sigh. "Hamish, come here." I say and Hamish, who had been trying to get his own jacket on, came over. I pull the jacket from him and help him with it.  
John kneels down in front of him, as we planned. "Now Hamish, when we get to the shopping centre, you cannot run off. We're going to the big one, with the toy store as well." His eyes light up "Before we get the food shop, where you will," He eyes Hamish sternly "sit in the trolley, you will be holding onto either me or Father, understand?" Hamish would have been in his pram, but it was been cleaned after he had thrown food all over it.

"Yes. I good." Hamish says, and reaches up for my hand to show willing.  
"See, he'll be good you don't really need me…" I try.

"Nope. I need you, this shopping centre's a lot bigger, I need your help."

"Fine." I sigh and lift Hamish to take him down the stairs, he could probably manage them himself, but they still seemed far too steep, so we were still cautious.  
The shopping centre isn't too far, so we reach it in a few minutes, the traffic uncommonly light.

"What are we getting, anyway?" I ask, wondering why we were here rather than the smaller shop, rather than the centre.

"A birthday present for Mrs Hudson." He says, paying the cabbie.

"Oh. Yeah, right. What's today's date?"

"The 25th. How do you even delete that?" He grabs Hamish's hand firmly as soon as he is out of the car.

"I just didn't make note of it, the date generally doesn't affect anything. Where are we going?" I'd only been here to buy gifts for Hamish before, and Mrs Hudson wouldn't want something from the toy shop.

"Debenhams, I was thinking some perfume and a cardigan." We turn right and do down the escalator, John picks Hamish up at this point, because he doesn't like it. "Actually, I'm glad you're here, it would be uncomfortable asking her, her size."

"Why?" We step of the escalator, and I follow John to a brightly lit store full of older woman in bright colours and decadent jewellery.

"It's not something that's appropriate, Sherlock. Like, you never ask a woman their weight. Hamish no." He said, as Hamish picked up a lipstick from a display as we walked past.

"But why can't you?"

"It's just- it's just not something you can do, if the size or weight is high, it's embarrassing to admit." Je rubs his temple in thought.

"Oh, right." I mumble, normal people are strange…

"What's her normal perfume?" He asks, expectantly.

"I don't know the name. But is contains fuchsia, jasmine in small parts and vanilla."

"Erm…I'll ask an assistant. Take Hamish." He says and puts Hamish's hand in my own.  
"Game!" Hamish orders immediately. Whenever we're out, I'll tell him deductions about people around us, or at least the appropriate ones, which he loves.

"Who?" I ask, looking around. Hamish points to a large man laden with bags following an extremely controlling woman. "Ah, him. You'll like him. He's a clown. There are smudges of makeup around his hairline, so he had a full face, and the amount on his fingers and nails show he did it himself, meaning it wasn't theatre or something similar."

Hamish giggles and points to an abnormally tall woman with a slight limp "Oh she's actually here to buy- Ah you're back, is that is?" John nods "-clothes, the ones meant for babies to dress her cats in. You do have a habit of picking the obscure ones, Hai. Anyway, can you see the clothes in her basket? All the same design, size and the hairs all over her are obvious, she can't be pregnant herself, and her hair and state of her coat tell us that she can't have family close, so not a young relative."

"Done?" John asks, biting his cheeks to hold back laughter.

"Yeah, well that I can say in front of Hamish, this is dull."

"You haven't even shopped yet."

"So? This place is still dull."

"You seemed to be entertained before"

"That was entertaining Hamish, being here is still irritating."

"Alright. We'll get the cardie and we'll be out of here, go get the food. Now, what colours doesn't she have?"

"An infinite number of shades of everything, just show me ones you like and I'll tell you if she has something similar."

"Right." It takes us only a few minutes to select something, and we stand in line at the till.

"Up." Hamish says suddenly, releasing my hand.

I bend down to him "What is it?" He pushes himself into my chest, hiding his face.  
"Scare.'" He whispers and I put my arms around him. And pick him up, cradling him to me.

John stands behind me, so if Hamish lifts his head a little, he can see him over his shoulder. "What is it, tell me, and we can get away." He says softly

"Witch." He says, barely audible. I look around, and to my right, there is a woman in a very long black dress, long strange fingernails, and heavy makeup.

"Okay. Sherlock, you pay for these-" He hands me the presents "and I'll take him out."

"Ugh." I moan, hating being stuck here. "Hamish, hey. Go to Dad." I say gently and

make sure he hardly uncovers his face as I pass him to John. The rest of the queue goes infuriatingly slowly after they leave, and I end up telling the checkout woman about her cheating boyfriend, despite John's protests that I do this to strangers.

I come out of the shop with the carriers, and spot them on a bench, Hamish smiling and holding balloon. "You seem better." I say to him as I run my hand through his hair lightly.

"Yes." Hamish says, and gets up "Shop!" The rest of the trip, though frightfully dull, goes better, and I end up using the chip and pin machine as John seems to just shout at it.


	20. Grandparents

_**AN:** My extremely lovely Beta,_** Sherlockedmyheart,** _(who I am so thankful for)_ _told me of the names Violet and Siger- used by authors other than Doyle for Sherlock's parents- and there is a little fact in it really- it's pretty close to cannon as Doyle himself used the name Sigerson in his Great Hiatus, and had a fondness for clients named __Violet. Sorry. I'm rambling. Anyway, Mrs Hudson fluffiness. _

* * *

"Oh god." I say as the doorbell rings downstairs.

"What, who is it?" John asks walking to the window. "Your parents, you didn't tell me they were coming." John smiles.

"Do you think we could go out of Mrs Hudson's back door?" I say, thinking out loud, really asking if he'd let me do it.

"No, I know you've been purposely cancelling their visits, I mean I've only me them a handful of times, they've only seen Hamish twice, they're his grandparents, for goodness sake. Now go open the door."

"Maybe they'll go away if we keep quiet." The doorbell rings again as I speak.

"Sherlock. Go. Now."

"But you know they aren't good for Hamish, Mother fusses and berates him on the smallest things, while disapproving on our parenting. And Father is worse, he's so stiff with Hamish, the poor boy doesn't know what to do, and he tries to force us into his style of parenting."

John winces slightly at this, Mycroft had told him a lot about our childhood, leaving out this detail, and when John had questioned me on a few things, like "Why didn't you just run away from school if you were so miserable?" I had had to explain to him about Father's issues with anger, and the way he would usually punish us.

He sighs, his morals taking over. "Sherlock. Go down now, or I will and you know how your mother will be disappointed in your hosting skills."

"But-"

"Now, Sherlock" he says sternly and goes to put on the kettle.

I stalk down the stairs and open the door. "Oh, Sherlock. How nice of you to come down." My mother looks me up and down "Your John's finally got you to start eating, I see."

"Hello son." My father says and walks straight past me, following Mother and hardly looking around.

"Mummy." I cringe slightlyat the enforced name.

"What?" She asks innocently, stopping on the stairs.

"Please don't say anything to offend John, he's my husband and even though he might not show it, those kinds of comments really get to him." I turn to both of them "And will you please both show the appropriate affection to Hamish."

She carries on up the stairs, then she and Father stop at the top of the stairs. "You? Affection? When you were younger we had to force you to hug or kiss your aunts in thanks."

"Not like I had a good example set for me." I mutter, thinking of John's mothers flourishes of hugs and kisses whenever they meet, "It's different now."  
"Whatever do you mean?" She asks loudly, walking in through the door, her fur-lined coat brushing against the door.

John walks in then "Hello, Violet, Siger." He says, seemingly wondering whether to hug them, then deciding against it. "Would you like a cuppa?"

"Good morning, and a cup of Earl Grey, please. Geoffrey will have the same." She says, and my father doesn't even attempt to answer John.

"Just with John." I say, answering her earlier question "Anyway, why are you here?"  
"Can't I come see my son and grandson whenever I feel like it?"

"And his husband." My father added, still looking at the floor.

"You hardly have before, not that that bothers me." For all my family's faults, we were always completely honest with each other

"Well, we're here now. So where's the child?"

"Upstairs, playing."

"Could you bring him down then?" She says, with a slight roll of her eyes.  
"Fine." I walk upstairs, and pick up Hamish, who was playing with a train set, he had got bored a while ago with fixing the track together, and would usually take it around his room, rolling it over all of his other toys.

I stand in his room for a minute, and give him instructions "Grandma and Grandpa Holmes are here, Hamish. My parents, you'll hardly remember them. You'll have to be very good, they're a little strict, okay?"

"Yes."

I bring Hamish down, and put him on the floor in the doorway. Usually, upon meeting new people Hamish will ask them a multitude of questions, but under my parents' intense gaze he quietened, flattening himself into my leg.

"No need to be scared, little one, come to Grand mummy." She gushes, sticking out her stick like arms and stretching her wrinkled neck. Hamish steps back further, hiding behind me.

"His name is Hamish." I say, 'little one' seems so demeaning. I pick him up "It's okay, Hamish, she isn't really scary."

"I know his name, don't be ridiculous. And don't talk to him like that, you'll induce his fears. Give him to me and go brush your hair."

"My hair is fine." I hand Hamish to her, who still looks terrified and sit down on the sofa next to them keeping hold of Hamish's hand

"Go brush it, please. Now, Hamish how are you?"

"My god, Mother, he's not even two yet, he can hardly answer that!"

John comes in with the teas on a tray, and hands them around,

"John said he had a very advanced development in language." She says, offhandedly, not noticing my annoyance. "You know, when we had to call him because you blocked the number."

"Yeah, I meant that he had a vast amount of words he was able to use, and his sentences were pretty long."

"Not that he could hold a conversation" I interject as Hamish attempts to climb from my mother's lap onto my own.

John gives me a Look then asks, to placate "How are you Violet?"  
"Better, my kidneys took to the antibiotics. At least someone asked." She throws me a look, still holding onto Hamish tightly.

"Mummy, you know I could tell that-"

"Yes, Sherlock, but that whole manners thing you ignored? It was that."

"Deleted."

We sit in silence for a while, sipping our teas, then Mother, who was failing at getting a still fearful Hamish to talk to her says, "Yes, anyway, we were just passing through. Lovely to see you. Did you want to hold Hamish, Siger?" She asks and my silent father just runs his hand through Hamish's curls then stands up to leave.

"No, thank you for having us." He says, finishing his tea the walking out.  
John walks them to the door then flops down on the couch.

"No offense, but your parents could show more affection to Hamish. They're supposed to be his grandparents, and they've seen him for about 3 hours in his whole life, they were only here 30 minutes."

"Does that bother you?" Hamish, who still has his head buried in my shirt as he had done as soon as Mother passed him to me, looked up at him.

"It's just for Hamish's sake, I mean, my dad is hardly a brilliant grandparent, so I wish he had someone else, and your parents are obviously not in the equation."

"He has your mum, when he sees her, and Mrs Hudson, who is the best substitute grandparent anyone could ask for."

"Are my ears burning?" Comes the light voice from the landing "I heard a noise from downstairs, was that your parents, Sherlock? And thank you, dear, that's lovely."  
"Yes they were here, unfortunately." I sigh. Hamish, who had turned at the sight of her, hold his arms up and she took him from me.

"Gan-ma." He says and hugs into her.

Her eyes fill sudden tears, and she strokes his head. "Oh, Hamish, dear, thank you, I love you, but you know I'm not really your grandmother."

"Yes." He says definitely staring her down. "You my Gan-ma."

She kisses the top of his head and sits on the sofa "Okay, okay." She sits with him for a moment, then turns to me. "Did you tell him to say that?"

"No, no I wouldn't." I hold up my hands in defence.

"Oh he's so sweet, I can't believe he said that.


	21. Baking

"Bun!" Hamish orders, as we sit at the table after he's done with his lunch.  
"We don't have any, Hamish."

"Bun!" He says again, insistent.

"I'll go down to Mrs Hudson and ask for something then." I say, hoping to placate him.  
"No. You bun."

"You want me to eat a bun? But I'll have go down there anyway." I get up from the table and stand next to his highchair.

"No. You bun!" I look over at John, who's cleaning dishes at the sink, quizzically wondering if he understands the meaning of Hamish's explanation.

"You want Father to get you a bun?" He asks, taking Hamish from his high chair and placing him on the floor.

"No. Fa bun."

"You want both of you to have buns?" I ask, bending over him.

"No. Me bun!" He says again getting exasperated at his inability to explain. He thinks for a while then says "Fa make bun!"

"You want me to bake?" I hear John's quiet chuckle at this notion.

"Yes. Fa bun!" He waits for a reply, and not getting one from either of us, "Please?"

"You have to now, Sherlock." John says, still suppressing a laugh.

"Are you sure that you don't want to bake with Dad, or Mrs Hudson as usual?" When John and I were working, or just both out for some reason, Hamish would go to Mrs Hudson (most of the time).

"No."

"I haven't baked before, I wouldn't know what to do."

"What?" John asks in amazement "You never helped you mum as a kid or something?"

"Mother never baked, the cook would do that. And I don't think I helped her, or if I did I deleted it."

"But still...you have no choice, you're doing it." He goes to the cupboard and pulls at a large mixing bowl, then looks for the recipe book. "Here." He opens the page at 'butterfly buns' "These are easy, just follow that."

"I know how a recipe works, John." I say then go the cupboard for the ingredients.

"Fa bun?" Hamish asks excitedly, following me then patting my leg for attention.

"Yes." I sigh, "I'll bake with you."

"Yes." He repeats and attempts to climb on a chair.

"John, are you going to help me-"

"No." He cuts in smirking and walks away into the living room "And please clean the table off before you start.".

Apart from our small sections at the end of the table, the rest is full of my equipment, so I let out a small "Hmph" of annoyance and put it all on the floor in the living room.  
"That's not what I meant by cleaning-"

"It has to go back anyway, so I'll leave it until we're done with the baking."

"Fine, just don't let anything stain the carpet." He says with a slight sigh, then turns to go back to the laptop, probably planning to tell everyone about me baking, seen as it's so incredibly funny for to him.

"So Hamish, I'll turn on the oven." I say out loud. "Hmm, never used this for cooking before, seems strange." I mutter.

"Bun!" Hamish cries, impatient.

"One second" I stand up from the cooker then go to the table "I'll put you in your highchair to mix, okay?" I lift him up and strap him back in.

I lift the recipe book "So flour." I pour it in

John, who was apparently watching form the other room shouted "You have to weigh it first."

"It's fine, I know how much is in there."

"Really?" He comes over and takes out the scales, pouring the flour into the bowl already on top of them. "Oh. 200 grams." He peers over at the recipe again "Exactly right. How do you do that?"

"I spent some time once weighing different weights for an experiment, pretty useful, actually." I say and add pour the flour back and add the sugar.

"Brilliant. I'll leave you to it then, love." He says, a sly glint in his eyes.

"You don't have to." I say, but he'd already gone.

I pour in the sugar then add the better, mix it a little as the book instructs, then hand it to Hamish "Here, you have to cream it." I demonstrate for a second "So stir like this."  
He stirs the mixture with a look of earnest concentration, moving it slightly around the bowl. I watch for a minute then take it back, "Yes, that's right, good." then mix the rest subtly to the 'sandy consistency' it states in the book.

"Do you want chocolate buns, Hamish?" I ask as I add the eggs and milk.

"Yes!" He giggles and reaches for the spoon. I keep it just a few centimetres away and stir, then hand to him to yell to John,

"Do we have cocoa powder?"

"We have instant hot chocolate powder and that's pretty much the same."

"Okay." I answer and go back to the cupboard, then turn to see that Hamish has abandoned the bowl of mixture and has reached over and got the bag of flour, which he has tipped onto his highchair table top and is now running his hands through, giggling as he picks it up and makes small showers all over himself.

The flour is in his hair and all over his clothes and face, as well as seemingly being in his mouth from the drool on his chin "Hamish!" I exclaim and run to take the bag away from him. "You do not touch the bags, you know that." His eyes widen and his lip trembles a little.

John walks in at the noise and moans as he sees Hamish "Sherlock. Why did you leave the flour near him?"

"I didn't realise he'd do that. I'll go get him cleaned up then." I bend to undo the table top of his highchair.

"No, just clean up the flour on there and let him finish, he'll make more mess. You can clean him while the buns are cooking." He leaves the room and sits on the sofa, still watching.

"Alright." I say as I brush the flour into the bin then rematch the section of the chair in front of him. "God, what a mess Hai." I mumble and he laughs, flicking the flour that had landed in his lap at me.

"Don't." I attempt to say sternly, but end up laughing, only encouraging him to throw more at me. I don't bother to brush it off, but instead of telling him not to I distract him by adding in the cocoa powder. "See how it gets darker?" I ask as I stir it in.

"Yes." He says, watching intently. I place the bowl in front of him and allow him to stir and stick my finger in to taste it.

"It's actually fine." I mutter, of course I'd be brilliant at this. Then Hamish, watching this, throws down the spoon and sticks his whole fist into the mixture.

"Oh, that's even worse now Hamish." I tell him as he sucks the mixture off his hand, then is about to put it back in "No, no. There won't be any left, you can have more when the bun cases are full."

I get the bun tray out and pop the cases in. After, I take the bowl from Hamish and begin to spoon it into the cases, pushing it off in the spoon with my finger "You two make a mess, I don't know if I'll let you do this again. Oh, and by the way you're cleaning the kitchen." Comes John's voice form the doorway, where he's decided to get a better view.  
"But I have-"  
"Your mess, I clean enough of it already. You're doing it."  
"Fine. These are done, haven't they gone well, Hai?" I ask and put the tray in the oven. "You eat that." I hand him the bowl "Then you're going in the bath."  
"Yes." Hamish says through his hand, which he is licking more mixture off, most children don't like the bath, but Hamish always enjoys it.  
The bowl is almost empty by then and I take it from him and lift him up, getting flour all over myself in the process. "Oh, I suppose I'm going to have change too." I say and he nudges into my shoulder even more, coating me even more on the flour all over him.  
I run the bath and then stick him in "Duck!" He demands, looking for the toy.

"Here." I give him it then take jug we keep to rinse his hair through "Put your head back." I tell him and he follows, moving his arms up and down in the water at the same time, splashing me. "Hamish!" I cry out at him and he laughs again. "Now, stop please." and he does. The rest of his bath is the same as always, and I show him how to make small waves in the water, I lift him out and wrap him round in a towel.

"Okay- comfy? Let's get you dressed." I whisper and take him to put something on. That takes a few minutes, then I go into our room to change myself, leaving Hamish to play with so

me toys he had in there on the bed "Okay, we're all clean we'll get the buns out."  
I look at the clock on the table. No. I've left them in the oven the buns will be burnt down. I pick Hamish up, and rush to the kitchen, "Forgot something?" John asks, smirking; the buns in his hand.

"Thanks, love. You know I was busy and-"

"Yes, it's fine. I'm teasing. Let these cool then and we'll do the next bit."  
"You'll do it too?" I ask hopefully.

"Course, but you're still helping." They go into watch something on Cbeebies and I begrudgingly clean the kitchen as the buns cool then we're able to make the butter icing.

"Recipe's here." John turns the book to another page and then hands me it.  
He gets the sugar and butter and passes it to me to put in the bowl and begins mixing. "Here, Hamish." I say when it's mostly done.

Meanwhile, John's been cutting circular sections out of the buns and cutting them in half. So when Hamish is bored with the mixing, I spoon it into the holes and show him how to push the semicircles down to resemble wings, handing each as it's done to John to sprinkle with icing sugar.

John takes the first and peel off the wrapper, taking a bite "These are actually good." He says with his mouth full. He swallows and grins. "You might have to cook more often."


	22. Play

_**AN: **Prompts? Any prompts given, I will be doing but at some point in the future as I think a few would be more suited to when Hamish is older. So right now, anything that can be used in the period just before he goes to nursery (which is at the age of 3 in England). Thank you for reading, following and reviewing. I've been feeling really overwhelmed recently over the amount of people reading this (I may or may not have gotten teary). Thank you again. _

* * *

The cab draws up at the soft play area and I let out a sigh. The things I do for Hamish. This place will be noisy, there will be a lot of screaming, hyper and excited children rung around, the coffee and food will be awful. Possibly even worse than this would be the parents, more specifically; the mothers- they would all come up and talk to me and or John whenever we went took Hamish somewhere, almost never understanding that we were together (though of the papers ever mentioned us it would say that we were together and of course of they had seen John's blog at all, which a lot seem to have, they would have known. But despite all this, they seem to be ignorant; mostly intentionally). Also, a lot of them seem to take it as a challenge, even if we mentioned that we were married, to get us to talk. And, apparently, a lot of them flirt.

Anyway, we got out of the car, Hamish who had been on my lap, jumping up and down as soon as I place him on the pavement. I smile at him "And who are we seeing today?"

"Emma" he half shouts, grinning. He'd seen her a few times since they met and John and Elizabeth had talked on the phone a lot trying to organise trips out within which we would be able to meet up.

"She'll be a bit late" John says, looking up from his phone. Hamish frowns and leans against me.

"It's okay, Hamish. It won't be long. Why don't we go in here? You can pick a present" Hamish's face lights up as he begins to drag me to the shop I'd indicated.

"You can't ply him with presents every time he gets a little upset, Sherlock." John finishes his text and walks slightly behind us as Hamish is almost running to get into the shop.

"I want to cheer him up though."

"I know, I know. That's sweet, really" he talks my hand and plants a small kiss on the back of it "He can't be spoilt that's all"

"He won't be" we get into the toy store and Hamish goes straight to the section with plush teddies and characters.

"He will if you buy him so much stuff all the time"

"Ah, you're misunderstanding the difference between my spoiling Hamish and him being spoilt. If he's spoilt, then he would be bratty, pretentious and awful. If I spoil him, he gets what he wants-not necessarily when he wants it. And l have plans for when he's old enough to teach him about the value of money"

"Oh…alright then. You seem to have that all planned out." He smiles "Now what do you want Hamish?"

Hamish lets go of my hand and runs off, picking up different teddies in turn and examining them. After the fifth, he got bored and went to a different section- the outdoor games and toys.

"Only something small" John warns and Hamish walks past all of the toys there (he didn't moan or whine at not being allowed those other things, Hamish was mostly very good these things), the mini trampolines, the bikes, the bats and balls seemingly uninterested or he may have just been ignoring them because it wasn't what he was able to get.

He stops by the bubble machines- and some of these were on, the bubbles flying everywhere hitting everything around them.

Hamish watched them, fascinated "Look, Hai, you see the rainbows inside?" Hamish nods and tries to catch one

"How?" Hamish asks, trying to catch one in between his hands,

"Those are from the light reflecting on the outer molecules of the bubble, and this is only a few molecules thick, then splitting so the light is partially inside. The waves of light then interfere, causing the darker and lighter colours to form."

"Eh?" Hamish asks, confused.

"You'll learn when you're older." John says "Do you want one of these?" he points to one of the small bottles of bubbles "I'll show you how to actually blow them later"

"Yes" Hamish says and picks up a purple bottle and gives it to John. He walks towards the counter before stopping then asking "Emma?"

"What about her?" I touch his hair lightly. He goes back and picks up a second bottle of the bubbles

"Emma?"

"You want to get her one too?" John asks and Hamish nods "That's adorable. Of course you can" and Hamish runs off, pulling John with him this time, to pay. I catch up and John's phone beeps "They're just around the corner" (they were walking here, apparently-they only lived a few streets away)he says and texts her back as I pay.

"You should move out" I tell the girl at the till and walk away as she hides her face in her hands.

"What? Why should she move out?" John asks as we walk out of the store, Hamish decided that he wanted to hold the bubbles making him unable to hold either of our hands so I just lift him up.

"Her mother is treating her like a slave. Her slump and young age to be working there says that she doesn't want to have that job, her hair and lack of lump on her index finger from writing say she isn't working to put herself through university, the clothes under her tabard tell me she isn't spending the money on herself and the marks on her hands show that she has to do a lot of housework. There is no usual indication of having a partner, she's very drab looking. It may be her father forcing her into work, but this seems more likely due to the necklace she has which seems to be a man's. That would be her father's which would indicate that he's dead."

"I don't know when I'll stop being amazed at this" John tells me and I find it hard not to beam at him. At that point, we've stopped in the street and are looking straight at each other. I hear footsteps, one of high heels and the other a small child and Hamish shouts

"Emma!" and attempt to struggle down from my arms. I let him go and he giggles and goes to her, immediately giving her the bubbles. "You"

"Hi" John says as I watch Hamish, making sure he doesn't more closer to the road

"Lovely to see you" Elizabeth tells him and turns to the children, both trying to open the bubbles "No, Emma, give those back. They're Hamish's"

"No" Hamish tells her and gives his bubbles to me.

"Hamish. Don't be rude" John scolds lightly "But he's right, he wanted to buy them for her"

"Oh. Bless you Hamish" she ruffles his hair, "Say 'Thank you' Emma"

"Thank'" she says to Hamish and is still attempting to open her bubbles. I have already opened Hamish's and decide to take hers. I pass Hamish's opened bubbles to John and we start to walk into the play centre.

John blows bubbles and Hamish and giggles. I give Emma the bubbles, she smiles up at me and takes out the wand.

John pays the woman at the desk for the admission and we go through a ridiculous gate into the large room.

Inside, there are many, many irritating screaming children. There is also a clown performer I groan out loud and several children stare. John appears behind me "Shhhhh." He warns and rests a hand lightly on the small of my back. He turns to Hamish "Go play ,go on" he encourages but Hamish still hesitates.

"Come on" Emma pulls at his arm, but Hamish still seems unsure. He spends so little time away from us that he seems reluctant to do so, even if it is with a friend. I step away from John and Elizabeth, now chatting about nurseries and take Hamish's hand, leading him to the play area.

"Go, Hamish" he looks at me but steps through a gap in the netting and gets in the ball pool, still watching me. "Want me to stay for a minute?" I ask and he nods.

He waits at the doorway into the play area then decides that it'll be fine to play a little and goes up some cushioned stars to the slide, I watch him go down this a few times before he seems better and step away to a recently vacated table near the paly area.

Though I hate the noise, I sit there for Hamish and then John and Elizabeth- who had been waiting for a table to be free, join me with coffee and juice for the children.

The table is plastic and meant for outdoors and I evaluate whether or not there are any interesting people around, which there are not. I listen to John and Elizabeth for a while, and she pulls me into the conversation "Sherlock, John says that you never even had a boyfriend- or girlfriend whatever, before you met him. How do you get to your age like that?"

"Simple. I never had an interest in love or felt it really before John, or found anyone sexually attractive"

"Awh. That's sweet. Still baffles me a little though. You hadn't even kissed anyone?"

"Not really. I have when working on a case for information, but a little thing- a peck I'd say. But nothing with any meaning. Then there was John, and I felt completely different. I mean I was a vir-"

"Shut up, Sherlock. You can't talk about that here."

"Why? It's natural John. It's not going to hurt the children if they hear anything. Anyway, as I was saying, when I met John I had never even tou-"

"Be quiet" John says in a whisper.

"Even if they do hear it, the children won't understand. So, before I met John I had always thought that sex was just used as a tool, or for reproduction. But then, I obviously found that it can elic-"

He cuts me off again "Shhhh." John lamps his hand over my mouth, "If you say another word, Sherlock Holmes-Watson, I will throw away your infected livers" and takes his hand away.

"I'll get more"

"No. I'll tell Molly not to give you anything more until further notice, and you know she'll do it"

"Fine" I say sulkily and turn to watch Hamish. Elizabeth, who had begun giggling when John covered my mouth, says "You can tell me later, I would love to hear it"

I smile at her, glad that she wants to hear the rest. She isn't that bad for an ordinary person. And my John likes her, which has to be a good indication. After a while of incessant talking about some actor that had died, a bell sounds and children run to a mat in the middle of the floor. The clown stands in front of the mat and Hamish comes to the netting and looks out at the at the crowd, Emma a little behind him. "Come watch the show kids" John shouts over and they come out of the steps to the ball pool. John walks them over to the mat and sits them down and we stand just behind them.

Hamish then gets up again and stands "See" he tells me and I lift him to see the show above the children's heads.

The clown begins his 'magic' and does the classic thing with the long line of handkerchiefs,. At which Hamish gasps a little "They're all up his sleeve"

"Sherlock!"

"What?" I ask him, I was only telling the truth.

"It's magic. You're not supposed to know how it's done. And talk a little quieter so we don't interrupt"

"It's teaching him"

"Yeah but- it's a child thing, you have to believe in it"

"It's so obvious though"

"Just don't tell him anymore"

"But John, he should-"

"When he's older you can" he says sternly, indicating the conversation is over.

The rest of the show is equally as dull and Hamish comes over to the tables, asking for the bubbles.

"Do you want me to show you what to do?" I ask and take the bubble and form the bottle, aiming the bubbles slightly above his head. "Put your lips out" I stick mine further out and Hamish copies. Quickly, John leans over and kisses me

"Sorry, couldn't help it. You shouldn't have lips like that"

I laugh at this and finish Hamish's lesson "Blow air out" and he does this, but makes a noise.

"No, try again" I say until he does it well enough. I had him the bubble wand and he succeeds in blowing his first bubbles.

Fascinated, he does this for quite a few minutes before getting a drink from his bottle on the table and dragging Emma, who had also been playing with her bubbles, back to the slides.

"I like seeing Hamish play like that. He is good with other people, isn't he?"

"Seems to be. John says, then reads my mind "Stop worrying. We'll make sure he's fine, he won't ever be bullied, okay? Stop."

He grabs my hand and rubs circles on the back and then changes tactic, pulling me into a hug "Who ever thought you'd be worrying over something?"


	23. Flirting

_**AN:**__I couldn't decide between BAMF!John or Possessive!Sherlock so you got both. Gosh this chapter ends up fluffy, I think I'm developing a problem-All the fluff, all the time.  
_

* * *

At the park, all the mothers sit at the very edge; on the short benches provided or standing around gossiping. Due to the distinct lack of men it seems that whenever John and I go, we will be inundated with these women. Which is totally ridiculous, most of them or married or at least in a long term relationship, but seeing men taking care of a child, even if we are so obviously a couple (most of the time I will end up just grabbing John and kissing him, just to get them to quieten for a while, if they don't go away), seems to be very exciting for them and they end up crowding around and will always come to talk.

Which is exactly what's happening now. As we walk in, Hamish running for the slide and John going off to watch him. I stand just behind- keeping out of the way of both the crowds of women and the irritating, sticky children running around everywhere. John helps Hamish up the steps, holding his hand over the bars then getting him to wait at the top as he goes to the side of the actual slide.

"Again" Hamish squeals as he gets to the bottom and John complies. Then, some woman pushes against me

"Oh, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to-" Mid-thirties. Husband cheating with receptionist. Two children, one a lot older, going to university- leaving her behind, younger child very demanding and spoilt.

"Be more careful" I say and turn back to watch John and Hamish.

"I didn't mean to push into you, please accept my apology." She sticks out her hand and I grab the fingers gingerly. I hate touching people- other than my family, of course- and let go after and attempt to drop it after the briefest moment, but she holds on.

"Fine. Could you let go of my hand now?" John still hadn't noticed the interaction and he wasn't getting this woman away from me. She lets go and Hamish comes running to me

"Dada ice-cream" he tells me and John smiles at me before heading for the ice-cream van in the car park.

"Okay, Hamish. Do you want to go on the swings?"

"Is this your son?" the woman asks and I nod, taking Hamish's hand to go to the swing set.

"Yes, I'm going to go play with him now. Bye"

"Oh, he's so adorable" she touches Hamish's shoulder and he shudders, pressing into me- he does this whenever he doesn't like someone "My Tom's just over there too, I'll walk with you"

"Great" I mutter and she ignores it,

"How old is he then?"

We're at the swings and I lift Hamish into one, and the woman doesn't step away. Why can't I just tell her to go? John insists I be nice to people, and I don't know why I should talk to people if I don't like them

"Two years" I say, hoping a short answer will drive her away. Oh, I'm just going to tell her to go John won't mind that much- if I do it on a 'polite' way "You should go to your son, I'm fine here"

She smiles and pretends as if she hasn't heard me "He's great. And he really loves you" she moves closer, brushing up against me and I flinch away.

"That's what all children are like with their parents. Or at least if their parents are good enough to them." I say, trying again to hint at her going to get her own child. I should just say it, John would never know-I'd have to tell him, I can't lie to him. Ugh why are people so obsessed with manners and being nice?

"Oh yes, I can't believe the way some act with their children" she steps closer again and I can't get away, trapped here as I push Hamish.

"Speaking of which, don't you need to look after your son?" I say, being more direct but not too impolite that it would be noticeable.

She laughs, even though she would have probably been insulted by this "He's fine" She says, even though her son-the child she looked at when she mentioned him- is struggling to swing by himself. "I didn't even ask your name!"

"Sherlock Holmes-Watson"

"I'm Joan. Joan Denver. Unusual name."

I stay silent and she presses closer and puts her hand on my arm "You are very unusual, well from talking to you, you seem to be"

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Yes, I love unusual. You're very attractive too"

"My husband tells me that."

"You're married-and gay?" she says in shock, but doesn't move away. Right then, John comes up behind me. Placing a hand on the small of my back and I take Hamish out of the swing so he can take his ice-cream

"Yes, and extremely happily. Now, will you please step away from my husband you're making him uncomfortable. And I think it's a little irresponsible to leave your child somewhere in the park as you proposition a random, obviously married " he lifts my left hand, showing her the ring "man, makes you seem like a slapper" John finishes, unusually rude.

The woman steps away, apologising then practically running in the other direction. Hamish watches her, seeming happy that she's left and licks at his ice cream, John moves him away as another child goes for the swing set.

"Was that jealousy?" I ask, teasing and put my arms around his neck. Hamish is watching, his hand on my leg, amused.

"She was throwing herself at you. Though you hardly seemed to notice, I could see her getting closer and closer to you from across the park"

"So you were jealous."

"Yes. No one gets to touch that gorgeous body of yours but me"

"Possessive" I comment, kissing him lightly.

"Shut up. You know you're the same, worse than me actually."

Hamish pulls at his leg, his face and hands covered in ice-cream and asks to sit on the grass near the pond "Yeah, come on then" he picks Hamish up as his hands are occupied by the ice cream and we go to sit on the grass.

John's right that he's not the only one that ends up getting jealous. A few days ago, in fact it was in a café after we'd been out with Elizabeth and Emma, a woman had practically attacked John.

He had been stood at the counter while I took Hamish to the toilet (at the age of 2 years and three months, he was young for the average potty training age but seemed perfectly capable, being advanced in everything he's done so far) When we came back, John was talking animatedly to a woman next to him in the queue.

I left him to it, John seems to make friends everywhere so this seems normal. Probably read his blog at some point or something. I instead find a table and drag over a highchair for Hamish

"Fa?" Hamish asks as I lift him into the chair and sit at the side of the table, their being two chairs side and the opposite end to Hamish being placed against the wall.

"Yes?"

"Hug?" he reaches his arms out to me and I lift him out of the chair again, cuddling him to me.

"What was that about, Hamish? Are you feeling okay?" I run my hand over his forehead, which is a the right temperature, then I look at his eyes which he's rubbing at. Oh, of course. He's tired, he always gets cuddly when he feels tired.

"Yes" and I go to put him in the chair again, but he protests "Sit on you?"

"It'll be harder for you to eat if you sit on my lap, but of course you can."

I sit down and put him on my knee and he snuggles into my shirt and yawns. I stroke his hair, and he closes his eyes. "Don't sleep yet, Hamish. You have to eat something."

He sits up a little, lifting his head and opens his eyes "Where?"

"Dad's getting it." I look over "The coffee machine's broken so he has to wait a while, a waitress will bring the food soon."

John's talking to the woman, who then puts her hand on his arm and strokes it. I feel something flip in my stomach and breathe in sharply. _She shouldn't be touching him_. He's mine, we're married. People aren't allowed to touch John like that. Hamish shifts on my lap again and his head goes back to leaning on my chest.

Then the woman leans over, whispering something in John's ear and he laughs, at this angle I can't see to lip read, but judging by her past- she used to be a stripper- it was likely to be a dirty joke. My stomach flips again and it feels like a lead weight has dropped into it.

She can't do that. John is mine. Can't the idiot see the ring on his finger? It shows that he belongs to someone. I stand up, lifting an almost asleep Hamish to my hip and walkover to them.

"Hello, love." I wrap my spare arm around his waist and kiss him fully on the mouth, and despite the surprise of this he responds and pulls away a few seconds later "Hamish is getting tired, so could we ask for the food as a take away, that way he can eat when he wakes up?"

"Yeah we will" he says then steps to the counter to ask for the order to be changed, the woman follows him there babbling about not being able to find clothes to fit her, dues to her small waist and 'larger chest' something which she seems to trying to force into John's face.

John comes back over and tickles Hamish's chin lightly "Tired, eh? You go to sleep on Father then if you want. We'll be home in a little while."

Hamish smiles at him blearily and rests his head back onto my shoulder as I hoist him up "Your son is adorable." The woman says to John, "And this is Sherlock, I take it?"

She nods at me "Yes, John's husband" I tell her, even though the question wasn't for me.

"Yes, I know" she smiles patronisingly

"So you knew he was married yet you're still trying to get him into bed"

"I-erm. I- wasn't. He's married I wouldn't do that"

"Yet you used to perform for hundreds of married men every night as they ogled your semi-naked form. Excuse me if I don't believe you"

"How did you-How." She blushes a deep scarlet "I think I'll wait over here" she says in small voice as the whole café stares at her.

John looks at her then back to me "Sherlock! I thought I told you not to deduce strangers to their faces in the middle of public places"

"You did. But here are always exceptions to every rule"

"And why was this one?" he asks in a low voice as we walk to get the now ready food.

"She was touching you. And shoving her breasts in your face, don't pretend you didn't notice how much she was flirting"

"I'm not. I wasn't flirting back, you know I wouldn't do anything"

I open the door and we walk to the flat, it being only a few streets away. Hamish moans a little as he ends up being jiggled up and down as I walk "Of course I do. It just doesn't feel right when other people touch you like that. It makes me feel a little ill"

"Oh, love. You're all jealous" he leans into me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pressing a kiss to my cheek, then chuckles softly "It's so cute"

"Cute? You're mine, John. People aren't supposed to touch what's mine"

"I'm not a toy someone nicked off you in the playground" he pulls away, offended.

"That's not what I meant." I stop on the street and adjust a now lightly snoring Hamish so he isn't hitting his head against me as we walk. I turn to him, placing a hand on his shoulder so he looks straight at me "I meant, at its most obvious level that we're married, so your my husband, then of course mine in that we have a child together. You're mine because you love me, and I love you. You're mine because you made me a better person, and to use a ridiculous yet accurate cliché, 'you complete me'. You're mine because without you I wouldn't be who I am today. You made me a much better person, John, and being able to call you mine makes me prouder than you can ever imagine. So don't tell me I shouldn't "

John pulls me to him in a kiss, his arms around me properly this time, half crushing and awakening Hamish in the process , when he pulls away, after manoeuvring Hamish slightly so we can kiss properly he says "Yes, you can call me yours. I didn't mean that to upset you in any way. I am yours and you're mine. Truly and forever"


	24. Uncle

"What?"

"Sherlock you cannot get your two year old to smash up government security level cameras just because you are bored, and he's frustrated" Mycroft insists, taking away the wooden spoon Hamish was beating the tiny camera with.

"You should stop bugging the flat then" I reply

"I'm only trying to keep you safe"

"My" Hamish protests, trying to get the spoon from his uncle's hands.

"It's broken anyway, let him finish" I insist and Mycroft relents and a beaming Hamish goes back to hitting-or missing almost every occasion- the camera in the middle of the floor "And we can keep ourselves safe. John was a Captain in the army and you know I can beat any criminal"

"Sometimes hurting yourself in the process" he says, swirling his umbrella. "I took the ones form the bedrooms, at least"

"And I'm eternally grateful" I roll my eyes at him "Now, if you don't stop I'll be inclined to tell the papers about the Windsor Mission"

"_You wouldn't._ You'd endanger the lives of our monarchs just to prove a point? And for god's sake stop hacking my email. It has the most advance computer security in the world. "

"You know I would, and it wasn't even that difficult getting into your email. Well do what I ask and maybe I'll comply. But I will tell everyone about how that youngish balding one is -"

"How do you not know the name of the third in line to the throne? You are, to paraphrase John, 'spectacularly ignoran't at times, dear brother"

"It doesn't matter, I only save things that are important. So you'll stop bugging our home?"

"On one two. You won't release the information if I allow you this?"

I sigh "And the other condition?"

"You allow Greg and I to take Hamish out for the day."

"Why would you want to do that?" I ask, wishing he would disappear already.

"He's my nephew. I want to spend more time with him" he picks Hamish up and tickles him. "Would you like that, young Hamish? Go out with me and Uncle Greg?" he sits Hamish on his lap and Hamish squirms , before trying to get off and go back to his destruction of Mycroft's toys but my brother held onto him.

"Oh, _right. _You want to show Lestrade you can do domestic. And let Hamish play if he wants."

Instead of doing as I said, he takes a bar of chocolate out of his pocket and unwraps it to give to Hamish "Yes. A little" he admits sinking into a chair. "You know he hates the amount of work I do. Oh and he's practically your brother- in-law, can't you call him by his first name outside of cases?"

"Of course I know that. You really need to stop stating the obvious so much, Mycroft. I am not one of your little drones than needs every minute detail to carry something out. I have a better brain than yours. And about the 'third in line to the throne' " I add a taunting edge to my voice in hopes that it will irritate him enough that he'll get up and leave. "I think you'd be at a far greater disadvantage if I released the information, than me having to dismantle some cameras every few days, and you only want to use Hamish to win an argument."

"You're right. And you know I hate to admit that, but I will take the cameras away, they'll just be more on the street and outside the doors and windows. I do not want to look after Hamish to win an argument, don't you think that I may want to just spend time with him, even if my motives were otherwise?"

"For goodness sake Mycroft, I am not a child. I can look after myself. I don't need your help."

"People have got in here before. When you weren't here. The man who got Mrs Hudson, what if I take all the cameras and they come again, when you and John are out and she has Hamish?"

"I have my own measures set up for those times."

"Your homeless network? They're hardly useful, they maybe be violent but my team could take people down in seconds."

I purse my lips thinking, his team of trained spies would certainly be able to act a lot faster and were likely to be more accurate "Fine. I've taken them all down, and Hamish is taking care of them…" I gesture to the mass of wires on the floor next to my feet "So you'll have someone put the others up, and there will be a function so we only turn them on when both of us are out, or in the night possibly?"

"You're pushing it, Sherlock."

"Fine" I take out my phone "Shall I go classy, The Times? Or sell it to a tabloid?" I bring up the picture on my phone.

"Okay, okay. Stop. I'll do it. I just want to keep you safe, why do you have to be so difficult?"

"I already told you, I do not need looking after. And about Hamish? Who, thank you very much, will now be hyperactive, he doesn't like being away from home. Even if it wasn't a case of him being used as a tool for you to get Lestrade to stop sulking at you"

"I care whether you get hurt and I'm sure if the situation was reversed you would want to look after your younger brother, even if he was a childish, self-centred nuisance. Hamish would like to spend some time out, he needs to know how to spend time away from you."

"I could be, though I would hate to have to take care of an idiotic, irritating, sugar-addicted man like you. I wouldn't mind if you stopped though." He sighs at this "it may be good for his development, but yet again you are _using_ him. Which is not acceptable. But if it will help him learn something…I'll ask John"

"You'll twist it. He won't say yes. Let me ask." I take out my phone and type ou

t **What do you say to Mycroft using Hamish as a tool to get into Lestrade's pants? SHW **,

before Mycroft can do anything.

"Too late" I lock the phone and Mycroft gets out his own and types in a code.

"Sherlock, you know that's not what I meant"

"Stop looking at our texts. Why can't you let me have a private life?" Hamish looks up from his chocolate at my raised tone and I smile at him so he doesn't get upset.

"I do. I don't even usually check the ones you send to John anymore. Not after that time he had to go away for a few days three years ago"

"You shouldn't at all. It's an invasion of privacy."

My phone vibrates and I take it out

**No. A giangantic no. Tell him to go to hell. How would that even work?**

**He wants to show his boyfriend that he isn't a complete idiot when it comes to regular life. SHW**

Mycroft looks up from his own phone "It's in case you decide to text master criminals to 'Come and Play' again"

"That was years ago. And I won, didn't I?" As Mycroft's phone is still in his hand and Hamish has finished the chocolate and is bored again so makes a grab for the phone, which Mycroft promptly puts away. "Hamish, come here so I can clean your hands." I lean behind me for a wipe.

"Yes but that's not the point." He says as Hamish gest off his lap and I wipe his chocolate encrusted face with a wet wipe.

**He wants to look after him? If it weren't for his reasoning, I'd say yes. **

Mycroft reads the text on his own phone

"See, he says no. You should go now" But Mycroft's taking out his phone

"Hi, John" John says something, his voice slightly deeper than usual indicating his annoyance "Yes I see that. I wouldn't want to use him, I just want to end the argument…..Of course I want to see him as much as possible , I only didn't ask before he was younger and I'm always so busy…I'll have an assistant and I'll call you…Now….to the new playcenter…I'll do that. Bye, John"

"John says it's fine" he grins smugly

**Just this once. He's upset and Hamish should spend some time with his uncles. If you agree. Love you**

**Can't I disagree just to annoy him? I love you too. Come home. SHW**

"Give me a minute" I tell Mycroft and take Hamish into the kitchen "Would you like to go out one day with Uncle Mycroft and Uncle Greg?"

"You an' Dada?"

"No, we'd be at home. You'd go somewhere with just the two of them"

"'Kay"

"So you want to?"

"Yes. Choc" he says and walks back to Mycroft and asks "Choc?"

"No more, sorry" Mycroft tells him.

John texts back then **No. And I'm on my way. **

**But I want to. Very good. SHW**

"There's sweets in his inside pocket" I tell Hamish and he goes for Mycroft's pocket.

"Thanks, Sherlock"

"If John agrees to taking him out it's fine then. Are you going him now?"

"If that doesn't disrupt you, then yes"

"Okay, I'll get his coat. He'll need dinner and you have to have back before seven as that's his bedtime" I go to the hall and get Hamish's things and hand them to Mycroft "Bye, Hai. Be good" I kiss his forehead as I put his coat on him "Tease Mycroft if you can."

"Great" Mycroft mutters

Hamish looks a little confused probably at the concept of 'teasing' Mycroft "Bye Fa. Bye"

"I'll take good care of him" Mycroft picks Hamish up as he goes to the doorway

"Bye bye Fa" he says again, waving over Mycroft's shoulder.

I go to the window and watch them drive off, then a text appears **Round the corner. We should spend some quality time if we're alone.**

I smile and sit on the sofa, smiling at the message. Minutes later, John comes in the door, grinning

"We should use this time efficiently then" I say as his arms immediately wrap around my waist and his lips crush against mine.

When they get back, John and I are on the sofa in our usual position. I'm laid out with my legs slightly over the side, my head I his lap as he plays with my hair absent-mindedly as he watches something awful on telly.

The buzzer rings "They're back" John hops up from the sofa and goes for the door.

He comes up, Hamish partially asleep in his arms and Mycroft following. I go over and stroke his hair "Hi, Hamish. Have a good time?"

"Yes" he yawns.

"I see you too had fun while Hamish was absent" Mycroft raises his eyebrows suggestively. John blushes furiously and directs the conversation another way

"He had something to eat?"

"Yes. And I see what you mean about hyperactivity. He didn't stop running off"

"That happens. Thanks for taking him out" John says and walks Mycroft to the door as I put Hamish to bed. John comes up when he's done and we watch over Hamish for a minute as he sleeps

"Not that I'm complaining about how I spent the afternoon, but I really missed him"

"I know what you mean." I take his hand and lead him downstairs and we spend the evening talking about Hamish's future.


	25. Painting

_**AN:**_ _I'm going to be away for two weeks, and my lovely Beta_ **Sherlockedmyheart** _will be posting the next few chapters for me over that time. That measn I won 't be able to reply to reviews as usual, so I'll do that when I get back. Anyway, this is just something I used to love doing as a child, and really want to do right now. _

* * *

Yesterday we had been out and Hamish had seen a set of paints, each bright, primary colours that attracted his attention. Seeing this as we went past the craft shop he head pointed it out and of course, seen as he had wanted it and he hadn't had a present in a while I had bought him the paints.

Although these were finger-paints, which would lead to a lot more mess than usual so due to the time we got back, only a few hours before Hamish's bed time he hadn't been able to use them. Instead, earlier this morning John had gone and bought him a large roll of blank wallpaper to paint on as we felt that that a normal sheet of A4 would be insufficient if Hamish had to use his fingers and or hands to paint.

So here we were, the table and sofa pushed back in the living room and multiple rolls of wallpaper out side by side, the carpet underneath and most of the room covered with a sheet to prevent stains. Hamish was stood at the end of the room close to the window his paints in front of him. He seemed to be having a hard time deciding which colour to try first.

"Blue." I instruct him and he dips a finger in the right pot, he'd learnt his colours months ago and looks at the substance on his finger.

"Put it on the paper then, Hai." John says helpfully, but Hamish still looks doubtful. So John goes over sits down next to Hamish and dips his own finger in the green and writes out a large 'H'.

"See, 'H' for Hamish. Go on, try and copy that." John gets Hamish to sit down then takes his hand and presses his painting finger to the paper to form the 'H' underneath his own. "There you go, it's fine. Now, paint what you want."

Hamish, still seemingly wary, sticks his hand in the paint and then puts his finger straight onto the paper, not making any shape. Then, some inspiration seems to hit and he moves his finger around and around, making a circle. John decides to accompany him and finishes off Hamish's name

Hamish doesn't seem to know what to do again unsure whether he likes painting like this. "Draw me a picture, Hai."

"What?" He asks, looking at the shape he'd made.

"Draw me and Dad." He smiles and begins to draw, sticking his finger back in the paint. Five minutes later, he has two splodgey looking almost oval figures in blue, one overlaid with green, the other yellow. "What are we doing?" I ask him, walking over to his side of the painting

Hamish splutters and with a small giggle says, "Kiss."

"That's lovely, Hamish. What about you?" John says as he continues writing up all three of our names in varying colours, adding embellishments and patterns.  
"Me?"

"Yes. You need to be there." I tell him and kneel down.

"You." He says as he begins drawing

"What about me?"  
Hamish lifts his head and points at his paints "You."

"What do you want me to draw?" Hamish shrugs which I take as leeway to do anything so I take some of the red and drew a dinitrogen tetraoxide (N2O4) molecule. By the end of this, Hamish had lent over me and is getting close to spilling paint all over my clothes so I move the pots closer to him. Then pull him over so that he's sitting directly in front of me.

"Okay, Hamish, you should write out the rest of your name." I say as he finishes the drawing of a cat he'd decided on. I write it out for him in pencil, in large, block letters then take his hand and guide around each section with the paint on his finger.

"Good." I say as he finishes "Now write your age." I write the number two out on the paper and stick his finger in the paint and get him to follow the shape, guiding him with just slightly less conviction this time. Then I let him go and he goes back to drawing himself as a doctor.

By this time, due to the size of Hamish's drawings we are half way through the first bit of paper. Also, all his fingers are now covered in paint. John leans over me and reaches for Hamish's hand then takes the blue paint and with a finger spreads it all over his palm.

"What Dada?" Hamish asks him.

"Handprints. You must have heard us talking about fingerprints or footprints, so this is the same really."

"Except fingerprints are unique and footprints not only tell us the shape of a person's foot as a handprint does, but of their gait, height, weight, possibly age and gender, not to mention where they have been in the last few hours or more."

"You know what I mean, no need to be pedantic." John replies and presses Hamish's hand on the paper "See, there's your hand." Hamish seems immediately fascinated by this and attempts to stick his whole hand in, which is too large by quite a lot,  
"No, Hamish you can't do it like that, the pot is a good centimetre too small to fit your hand into." I get up and take a plate from the cupboard and pour the paint onto it, then pass it to Hamish to dip his hands into the paint. So soon, the paper is filled up with Hamish's small handprints and the paint has also somehow ended up all the way to his forearms. At that point, he grabs my hand and sticks it into the paint then puts it onto the paper, disappointed when the print only appears partially

"Fa." He moans, assuming I've done something wrong.

"My hand wasn't coasted properly with the paint, causing the hand print to be insufficiently painted." I smile at him and cover the rest of my hand and print it next to one of his on the sheet "There, is that better?"

He touches it carefully with his finger, adding some of the red to the blue print and he turns to John, who has already began painting his own hand I take this opportunity to show him the purple he had made "Look, here." I point to the print

"See your red and my blue made…."  
"Pu'ple" He says with a slight lisp, he seems to have this impediment with a few sounds but it's fine at this age and everyone seems to say it's 'cute' so it doesn't bother me that much.

"Good." I tell him then John adds his handprint to ours and Hamish grins, grabbing John's hand and placing it down on the paper again. I take the other paints from the floor, drawing a thick red line with one finger and then a similar one in yellow crossing over it "And there Hamish" I gesture "Those two-"

"Yellow and 'ed."

"Yes, they make –"

"O'ange."

"Good, so these two." I hand him the blue and then yellow so he copies my lines and then tells me "Yellow." He draws out the first line "Blue." He adds the next one over it "G'een."

"Good boy Hamish." John says "Do me some more handprints." Hamish grins and complies. Then he seems to notice the paint on his arms and rubs at it. Only succeeding at getting more all over.

"You want me to get it off?" John asks standing up and heading for a wipe.

"No." Hamish answers and spreads the paint further up his arms.

"You'll have to go in the bath." John warns

"Yay!" Hamish squeals and puts some of the paint onto his feet

"Oh, good idea. You can do footprints." I say and help him to coat his other foot which he puts out in front of him then lift him to stand straight on the second roll of paper "Walk straight up, still on the paper, and come back."

He does this, leaving his lightening footprints up and down the paper. He gets back and sits on me, putting his arms back and successfully covering my shirt in the paint. I groan inwardly but don't tell him off as he wouldn't have realised, and this shirt was old. "Off." He says not liking the feel of the paint on his feet

"Pass me the wipes please, love." I ask John and he gets them from the sofa and passes them to me. "Thanks." I wipe Hamish's feet off and he goes to draw more then laughs and decides to put some of the paint on his nose.

"Oh, Hai." John laughs. ""Wanna look?" He asks and Hamish nods so he lifts him to the mirror carefully keeping our sons paint encrusted arms away from his clothes. Hamish giggles at the sight of himself

"Pic!" He orders.

"You want me to take a photo of you? Right. Go sit on your Father's knee." And he walks off to get his camera. This takes quite a while, so instead of coming to me Hamish wonders to the wall, looks for a second then puts his hand on it.

"Nice." I say "Do all of the other colours." I pass him the respective plates and he adds more of his hand prints to the wall and I sit behind him. Just as he's finishing John comes back in.

"The wall, Sherlock!" He exclaims.

"I know, looks quite good doesn't it?"

"No, I mean that the paper is ruined."

"It was ruined years ago." I answer, we had never bothered to repaper at all after I'd shot at the face. John seemed to like it for some reason.

"Well, yeah but Mrs Hudson will still be annoyed."

"She'll be fine." I tell him but still pull Hamish down and get him to use the paper again. We stop him painting at lunchtime and I put Hamish in the bath while John prepares the food.

"Done?" He asks in disappointment as I wash all of the paint off him

"Yeah, but you can always do this tomorrow if you really want." He grins and when he's clean and changed I take him to the kitchen and John gives him a sandwich as I change into something new. As he eats, Hamish's head begins to droop- he's tired out. So as soon as he's done John puts him to bed for his nap and we go to clean up. Or rather John forces the plates into my hands and instructs me to go and clean them.

The first roll of paintings is dry so he roles the paper up and puts it in the cupboard. It doesn't seem right to hide the painting away like that just because it can't fit on the wall properly so I go the cupboard and take it back out. I unroll the paper and scan it then get the scissors. I cut out the piece with our handprints and bring it out of the bedroom. I get some bluetac and stick the picture up on the wall next to the desk then stand back and look. Hamish hand looks so much bigger here than when we last made a mould of it, which John has on his desk at work. It makes me reminisce about when he was tiny and couldn't even hold his head up and I half wish we could go back to that but I still want to enjoy the rest of his childhood (then teenage and adulthood- my god, Hamish, an adult).

John comes up behind me, "Look at you getting all sentimental." He tells me and leans over my shoulder.

"What? I like it." I tell him and turn around to face him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"I know you are thinking about how much he's grown already, you cute little genius." He says and rests his forehead against mine. "I wish he could stay this age forever."

I lift his chin up and kiss him lightly and break away to say, "Hey, I know, but we have a lot to look forward to."

"I know, I wish we could make this age last a little longer."

"Me too, really. But we'll make sure that we enjoy this as much as we can." I crush my lips to his and bring him down to the desk chair and the kiss deepens. Then we hear Hamish yell out from upstairs and John laughs, getting up from my lap. "See, we'll even miss being interrupted like this one day."

I groan as he moves and follow him upstairs


	26. Imagine

_**Hello, this is Sherlockedmyheart, whilst the lovely**_** neverintendedtoexist **_**is away, I'm going to be posting the chapters for her. :) Enjoy her work. **_

* * *

_**AN:**_ _Prompt/idea from _**Lunabell Marauder Knyte**. _Thank you!_

* * *

"An' I do sci' like Fa and be doc like Dada!" I hear Hamish say from the floor. I'm researching a few types of hybrid plant that are poisonous kill someone if they have touched it, I have seen this more but these are hybrids, so a lot more lethal that the other types.

"Who are you talking to?" I ask and put the laptop down sit next to him on the floor.

"No one." He says and turns away from me

"Your teddy?" I ask him, indicating the bear on the floor.

"No." He turns again away, focusing on the same place in the air.

"You weren't talking to me, as you referred to me in third person. And if it wasn't one of your toys, who was it?" I ask, thinking through all the experiments that I had done in the past few days and if there are any of the chemicals that I had used could cause hallucinations. _No. _ I was fine on that. He hadn't eaten anything unusual, or too much of something - even the small amount of caffeine in chocolate can cause hallucinations.

"No one." He says again and stands up.

"There must have been something, Hamish. Come on, tell me. I'll keep it a secret of you want." I tell him and pull him around to face me.

"No." Hamish says and steps away from me.

"Come on. It's only me. You can say who you're talking to." I pull him down so he's sat on my knee.

"Yes." Hamish says after a moment, I wait for him to finish "Charlie." He says finally and looks over to the same place in the air as before.

"Charlie? And who's that?" I ask calmly, my head thinking through all types of schizophrenia and Dissociative Identity Disorder, but apart from the incident right now he hadn't shown any symptoms of either.

"Charlie friend. Charlie good." Hamish says and gets up. "Here." He points at the same place he's been looking at for the last few minutes "You see?"

"No. I can't see anyone." I tell him and he frowns, then grabs at the air next to him

"Here." He complains, stressing each letter

"No, I don't see anyone. Maybe you can, but I think 'Charlie' is a figment of your imagination."

"Wha'?"

"No Fa. Shhhhhh. Charlie he'e."

"He can't be, Hamish or I'd be able to see him." I say and Hamish steps forward again, stamping his foot.

"No Fa, You see. Charlie here!" Hamish shouts.

"I can't see. There isn't anyone there. At all."

"He is!" Hamish shouts again, his face going red.

"Don't get annoyed with me. I'm just telling you that this is someone you made up. It's completely normal in children your age - well older. You just need to see that he isn't real and it'll be better, you can play with me or Dad instead."

"No. My Charlie. He he'e!" Hamish protests, still shouting and quickly escalating into a full blown tantrum.

John walks in then, fresh from the shower and goes straight to Hamish and picks him up.

"Hey, hey. Why are you shouting, what is it?" Hamish sits up properly in John's arms, breathing heavily and hiccupping "Char-lie. " he hiccups again, "Fa mean."

"I wasn't being mean, Hamish. I was telling you the truth. I'm sorry if it upsets you but I'm not going to lie to you."

"Who's Charlie?" John asks quickly

"Hamish's imaginary friend. I told him he wasn't real but he seems to find that distressing."

"Really Hai? A new friend?" John asks, placating him Hamish smiles at this and leans on John "Let him have this, Sherlock. It won't be for long, Hamish gets bored of all of his games very quickly. Most children have imaginary friends. It's good for them."

"I know all that, but it isn't true. I'm not stopping him I'm just not going to let him believe that this friend is real or pretend that I can see them too."

"Humour him. Come on, it's like Santa. You remember that?"

"Letting a child be a child, of course I do. But this is directly encouraging something whereas with Santa there are people embodying the character and even some basis for the character, with this it's all imagination."

"I know that this something different for you, but you could think of it as an experiment." He says with Hamish still hiccupping and wiping his face on John's shirt.

I stand up then, this could be interesting. I go over, reaching my arms out to Hamish "I'm sorry I made you angry, Hai. Do you want to tell me about Charlie?" Hamish stares at me slightly warily then shifts in John's arms and I take him.

"Tell me then. What does this Charlie do?"

* * *

"So then Charlie say-"

"Said. And how did Charlie say it, what did he do while he was saying this to you? Give me detail, Hamish." I instruct if this is going to work out as an experiment, though this would be the only time-probably- that I'd use Hamish as a test subject, then I needed to have everything. This may even give me more insight into the minds of killers, those that are mentally unstable. Though this was far from what Hamish was thinking of, it seemed to have stemmed from the same principle originally as far as research can tell. Also, this was likely to allow me to see more into Hamish's mind.

"Charlie look big. An' he tal' like TV. He said you an' Dada should gi' me more choc."

"How tall? Show me. " I say and gesture at various heights, he tells me to stop at just a foot taller than him. "And who on television does he talk like?" Hamish shrugs "And tell him that we are not going to give you more chocolate."

Hamish frowns then speaks to the empty space on the couch next to him "Fa say no. Wha' I do?"

"So he's right there?" I ask and move so I'm straight in front of Hamish, so I would be covering up and interaction between him and this 'Charlie'.

"Move. You squashing him." Hamish orders and I step back.

"Did I hurt him? What happened?" I ask, trying not to grin and sound too eager.

"No." I lean over again and cut my hand through the air.

"Tell me when I touch him."

"He move. Gone now." Hamish tells me and walks away.

"Where? Where has he gone to now?" I ask, following him.

"Away. We play now." Hamish tells me and picks up a toy car. Over the next few days, Hamish doesn't speak of his imaginary friend in front of us but when he's alone we can hear him talking.

"How long do you think he'll keep this up?"

"Hmmm?" John asks as he sips tea. Hamish is at a small plastic table we bought for him and John's reading the paper as I watch.

"When do you thing this 'Charlie' will disappear? Imaginary friends can be with children for years. Though I think that Hamish will quickly get bored with something like this, another part of me thinks that Hamish's imagination is so vast that he'll keep on with it."

"True, but I would go with the former. Simply because Hamish has been talking of him and too him less and less over the past week. So it seems much more likely."

"I know that, but maybe he's just becoming more reclusive about it, talking to the imaginary friend in his head rather than out loud."

"That's not his personality, so I think he's getting bored." John says and gets up as he finishes his tea. "You haven't taken me out in ages."

"Why can't _you _take _me_ out?" I ask, smiling.

"Because you do nothing around the house. So you owe me."

"It's not like we don't share everything." I say and he grins and turns back to kiss me.

"You know what I mean." He goes to wash up our cups.

"How much do you like Charlie. Hamish?"

"Bit…he get bo'in." Hamish says and goes back to the drawing he'd been doing. "This him." Hamish says.

I look at the drawing, which is in his usual style. What I can seem to understand from it is that his hair is orange, his eyes are blue and he's wearing something purple, which I would guess is a top, and something green which I would say was trousers.

"Nice." I say "I'll put it up on the fridge with the others."

"No. Mine." Hamish says and takes his drawing back. "Charlie gon' draw too." Hamish says and sets out an extra sheet on the opposite side of his table.

"You want it for your room?"

"Yes." He says and takes out another sheet of paper.

* * *

Charlie appears less and less over the next few months, then later only when Hamish is particularly upset or tired. It's nice for him to talk like this, however so I can hear more of his thoughts without asking. So when I ask Hamish about his imaginary friend, I feel slightly reminiscent but I had known that this, and all childish things that Hamish does now, would come to an end at some point.


	27. Looked After

My limbs ache, my throat feels like there's a knife cutting down inside it whenever I speak and my head is hot. But I push it all away; it is in a different file in my brain as fixate on the case.

The notes are pinned up to the wall and I go to rearrange things, hoping that I will suddenly be able to make whatever connection I'd been missing.

Now, the body was on the pavement, in an abandoned ginnel. The linking streets led to a newsagents, a pub and over the wall at the end is….is….oh god what is it? I can't remember. I don't forget things. I turn away, go to my Mind Palace but I can't concentrate, the room is too stuffy. I open the window and roll up the sleeves of my shirt. Okay, so the streets from the ginnel lead to the newsagents, and the victim had been in there and bought alcohol, but none was yet in his bloodstream. The way he was laid suggests that he was just coming out of the shop and was about to go back out of the alley, onto the main street and the attacker appeared over the wall having come from…I rub my temples, trying access the information again but the pain pushes itself to the forefront of my mind again.

No, this isn't going to happen. The pain is not relevant. I stand up again_, I will remember this. _ I look again at the notes on the wall; the man was an office worker, indulging on a Friday night. He had just broken up with a lover and was going to his wife. And over the wall…I committed the map of London to my mind years ago, and now I can't access it. I concentrate harder, barely breathing so that more power can go finding out what it is over the wall. Then the room sways a little as I open my eyes again, but I ignore that and stand until it rights itself again.

"Sherlock!" The door crashes shut and John's arms around me as the room spins again.

"John. Good, the case. I think I deleted something by accident, though it's implausible. The case, the man was coming from the shop, he had flirted with the shopkeeper, very insistent she was and then he was attacked, from behind, violently. A bit of a cowardly way to kill someone. I need you to tell me where the wall at the end of the alleyway leads to." I say as he drags me to the sofa and drops me down.

He puts his hand on my head "You're burning up. For god's sake how long have you been feeling this ill? Why didn't you tell me? You're probably hallucinating by now, you can't see straight right now, can you?"

"Where does the wall go to then? John I'm worried. I can't access it properly."

"Sherlock, how many fingers am I holding up?" He says, ignoring my question,

"Where was it that the killer came from? Tell me. John."

"Shut up about the case. You are ill. Now, how many fingers?" He waves a hand in front of my face, four fingers up, slightly blurred. "Keep your hand still then." I reach up and catch it, pressing it to my lips. Hamish is at my side mumbling something

"Oh god. This isn't good. I wasn't even moving my hand, and the answer was two. I'll get you some ibuprofen, I'm guessing you're in a lot of pain. Stay there."

"Tell me what it is. I need to solve the case."

"You are not doing anything until you are better."

"It needs to be solved." I stand up and the room moves again. "I'm fine. No one else can solve it. No one. They're all idiots. Such idiots. Not you John. You're not an idiot, at least not like them." John's strong arms are around me again, "The case, I need to figure it out. I need to know now, tell me what's over the wall."

He throws me back onto the sofa, "If you are not going to sit down then, I will give you sleeping tablets and knock you out so you will not have the strength to get up until you are better."

"I won't take them. This case has to be solved, now." I get up again and follow as he goes into the kitchen.

John's voice rises, deepens and I can hear the military ring in his voice "Sherlock. Turn around now. Lie on the sofa and _do not move_ until I get back."

"The case…"

John walks back to me, pushing me back, "Sit down before you fall again and crack your head open." He lifts Hamish onto my chest, "Hamish," He instructs the little boy, "Sit there and don't move until I get back. Make sure that Father doesn't get up, please. He's too ill. "

"Yes." Hamish complied as John walked off. "Fa hot." Hamish says as he leans against me.

"Hamish, you go play. I have to work." I lift him up and put him on the floor but he grabs onto my arm, holding fast. "Let go." I say and attempt to prise him off. My fingers shake a little, as they do when I use multiple nicotine patches.

"No. You poorly." Hamish says and tries to pull me to lie down again.

"I'm fine. Go play." I indicate his toy phone on the floor.

"No." Hamish says again and John walks in.

"The case, what does the wall lead to?"

"I'll tell you if you take the pills." John hands me the tablets (not sleeping ones, just the ibuprofen) and a glass of water.

"Fine." I hide the pills under my tongue and sip the water "There. Tell me."

"Open your mouth." John instructs.

"No." I say and push my lips together and then give into the aching in my back and lean against the sofa.

"Sherlock Holmes-Watson, stop acting like a child and open your mouth." I take another sip of water and swallow the tablet. Then open my mouth to show him. "Good. The wall, I remember, leads to a backstreet, the shop opposite being the back of a takeaway the rest being filled with bins."

I sit for a moment, my head still hurting and then my brain still feeling smoggy. Like the hard drive has a virus. "I…I know. The assistant. The wife's assistant." I mumble and lay down as Hamish climbs back up to my side.

"So you solved it, I'll tell Lestrade. Come on, I'll put you to bed." He comes closer to the sofa and pulls me up so my arms over his shoulder, Hamish holding onto my fingers on other side.

"I feel a little ill, John." I admit, allowing my eyes to close a little as now the case is over.

"Really? I wouldn't have known." His lips curl up into a smile.

"Make my head better. I can't think. It hurts."

"The tablets will work soon. Is there anything I can get you?" He lowers me into the bed.

"I'm a little hot."

"Very." John laughs "I'll get a cool flannel. And you will stay there?"

"Yes. I love you. You're really, really good John. Good in every way. The best."

"You're babbling. I think the medicine's started working." He leaves the room for the flannel and Hamish climbs up to me. I lean over and pull him closer to me.

"I love you, Hamish. You're so smart and kind, you're very like your Dad in that way. You're getting so big already, you know. You were this…" I gesture with my hands "little, you've grown up so much already. " John appears with the flannel.

"You're really sweet when you're doped up." John says and puts the flannel on my forehead. Hamish leans over and puts his hand on the flannel too "Oh, bless you Hai. Looking after Father?"

"Doc." Hamish says and John leaves him to the flannel, which he immediately moves so that the water ends up dripping into my eyes. He looks at me "Fa better now?" He asks as my eyes start to get heavy.

"Shhhh, we have to be quiet. His head hurts" John whispers.

"Hamish is fine." I mumble and reach my arms up "Lie here with me?"

"Of course." He climbs into the bed next to me "You should go to sleep now."

"Mmmm 'kay." I move down a little in the bed so I can lay on his chest, Hamish still a little above our heads on the pillows. "You're very comfy."

"Thanks. Now, sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up." He strokes my hair lightly and mutters to Hamish, getting quieter and quitter as I fall to sleep.


	28. Swimming

Due to the recent warm weather, the streets of London were even more filled with tourists than usual and everyone was dressed in shorts and strappy tops. It seemed that even the murderers and serial killers were enjoying the warm weather, I hadn't had a case in 12 days and everything was completely and utterly boring.

"Bored. John get me your gun."

"No. How could you even think about that now? Your son is right there." He unnecessarily points to Hamish- who's at my feet playing with a puzzle.

"My aim isn't that bad, it's not like it would be near him. Also the plaster of the wall is the type that will contain the bullets so there is no chance that it will ricochet off. Get me it."

"Nope. You are not shooting a pistol three feet away from our son."

"There is no chance that it will hurt him."

"But still, what about the noise, his hearings still delicate, it'll scare him. It's dangerous, okay?"

"Fine. So what do I do now?"

"Experiments?"

"Too warm for a few, the heat will interfere with the process, and I've finished everything else."

"Research?"

"Dull. I don't feel like hacking into something today."

"Are you trying to start another argument with Mycroft? But, anyway I was going to ask if you wanted to go swimming with us, if that isn't too boring."

"Not really, I was bored. Why didn't you say before? Of course I'll go."

"Really? Didn't seem like your sort of thing it would be just to have fun…not practical for you."

"No, I liked taking Hamish before, you know I did."

"Yeah, just… I didn't think you'd bother. It'd be a public pool, full of people."

"No it wouldn't."

"What do you mean, what other pools can we go to?"

"I have a contact that owns a private bath house."

"Do I want to know why he or she would let you use their pool?" He asks, grinning.

"I got her son out of trouble with a meth lab, proved that it was her brother."

"Right. So is it really posh?" John asks and seems slightly worried now about how it'll go.

"Probably. They provide towels there are private changing rooms, is that classed as 'posh'?"

"God, yes. It sounds great. Will there be anyone else there?"

"I'd guess at a few people that are paying, but those that can afford it there are the type that don't even use it as they don't stop working."

"Whoa, sounds fantastic if it'd be that expensive…I'll get your stuff then if you're coming." He picks Hamish's bag up from the table and takes it into the bedroom to add my things. He's back less than a minute later, also having taken out the towels due to the fact that they're provided.

I follow him as he begins to walk to the door. When we get outside, I get a cab and we set off and I call the owner of the baths as we drive

"Hello Linda." I say pleasantly, I'd called her private number rather than the office so it would get straight through

"Oh Sherlock, darling. Hello. How are you?"

"I'm fine, I was just ringing to ask if-"

She interrupts me "We simply must meet up, allow me to thank you properly."

"About that, could you let me and-"

"Oh, darling, how about we go out for a meal and- Wait, you and who?"

"My husband and son, it's mentioned in the papers if they put me in, which is less often now, fortunately. Anyway-"

She interrupts again, and John reaches over to me, keeping one arm around Hamish who's on his lap, and squeezes my hand probably recognising irritation in my voice even though he has no idea how truly infuriating the woman is being.

"You're married? To a man? And you have a kid? Wow, I'd never have expected- anyway. Congrats, darling!" She gushes at me.

"That is why he is my husband, yes. So, as I was saying before, could you do me a favour-?"

"Oh yes, yes of course, sorry, sorry darling. What is it?"

"Could we use your pool, as in right now? I know it's short notice but-"

"Yes, yes of course. I'm really busy at the office right now." _A lie. _"Or I'd come down and see you." She gives me security details to get in the gate and then into the pool before quickly getting off the line.

"She sounded annoying."

"Yes. Very." I answer as we round the corner and see the baths, which resemble more of a manor house that your usual pool.

"How long till we get there?" He asks, totally oblivious to the fact that we were just pulling up.

"We're here." I say and grin at him and point out the building as the taxi begins to slow down.

"Oh my god. There? It's a mansion" He says, as he pays and gets out, carrying the bag. I lift Hamish then put him on the floor and take his hand.

"It's an old house that she converted, but it looks a lot better than the normal baths." We walk up to the baths, Hamish slightly humming to himself.

"What are you singing?" John asks, tearing his eyes away from the bath house

"Fa."

"Of course you were! Beautiful. Was that the one you played at his birthday?" John asks me.

"An imitation of it. Hamish, try to make the C notes longer."

"He won't know what you're talking about." John tells me, so I begin to hum.

"Like this." I tell him then he repeats the tune, a little better this time. "Good. Would you like to learn to play sometime?"

"Vi?" he asks, his expression excited.

"Yes, if you would like to. When you're older, of course, and can hold the bow properly."

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" He answers, jumping up and down.

By then , we're almost at the end of the drive, I go to the door and find the security panel then type in the code she Linda gave me (though I would have been able to this without her help) and let us in. "This is fantastic." John murmurs looking up at the chandelier and running his hand over a plush couch. I sit Hamish down and walk to the counter.

"Hi, could I have a pass for the lift down to the pool?"

"You should have it with you, it's the same one you used to get in here." The tiny receptionist nods, not looking up from emailing her boyfriend.

"I typed in the code, I have a pass from Miss Snowden."

"Really? Strange. What's your name? Lemme check that." She stands up and goes over to a larger computer on the other side of the desk.

"Sherlock Holmes-Watson."

"We have Sherlock Homes, so I guess that's you."

"Yep, thanks." I smile at her- demeaning, John would call it- and take the key swiftly then turn around "Let's go."

"So, Hamish are you looking forward to swimming?" I say as we step into the lift.

"Yes!"

"How good are you?" I ask then lift his as there's a small set of stairs to the changing rooms.

"Big!"

"Big? How?" I ask and open the door to the private room.

"Big…big." He says, looking for a word.

"He means he swims like a 'big boy' with armbands rather than just in the ring."

"Oh really? You'll have to show me." I encourage and he slides down to the floor and grabs at the bag so he can get changed.

"Here, here." John laughs and opens the bag then bends down so he can change Hamish. We both follow suit and wonder through a second door to large, bright pool. There is one family there, with two young children.

Hamish begins to run, pulling away from my grip "No, stop. It's dangerous. If you run you could slip and get a concussion."

"Hurt your head." John clarifies for him then lifts Hamish up to get into the pool.

I hand him the rubber ring and he puts Hamish in, and I drag him around the pool, to delighted giggles. After a while John takes him and I dive under the water, get to Hamish's feet and tickle them which earns a screech of laughter and a foot to the face.

John just sees this and laughs "You shouldn't tickle him like that, Sherlock."

"I didn't think he would kick me, no matter." I dive under again dunk John as he still laughs, one hand still steadying Hamish against the wall of the pool.

"Sherlock!" He splutters, then splashes at me, carefully avoiding Hamish as he does so.

"Come on, Hai, let's get Fa!" He shoes Hamish to lean just enough to put his hands in the water. Together, they create a mini wave and aim towards me, I back up- getting closer to the other family - then shape my hands so that in closing them I am able to send a steady stream of water straight at John.

I end up getting splashed a lot more than the two of them but because my aim is better John ends up doing the same.

"Okay, okay Hamish." He laughs as he begins to get too excited and water is going in every direction. And he is mostly hitting himself.

I go to the side of the pool and drag myself out then pick up the armbands from where we'd left them next to the towels.

I slide back into the pool and lift Hamish from the ring and sit him on the side of the pool above us and put his armbands on.

"So you can swim now." I bring him down into the pool, my hands still around his middle. "Okay, kick." I tell him and he starts to move forward.

I step backwards, making sure to avoid the side of the pool. And let him propel himself forward. "Can you move your arms too?" I ask and he begins to move them up and down in the water so he's doing a type of doggy paddle. "Very good, good. Well done." I bring him towards me and let him float.

"He can do a little way by himself, you know." John says proudly.

"Why didn't you tell me before? That's so good." I tell him and take Hamish to the shallow section of the pool, back to where the other family is. "Are you going to show me?"

I ask and pass him over to John and he puts Hamish at arm's length, then let's go. For a second, seeing him alone in the pool makes me panic, even though we could grab him in a second and he has arms bands to keep him up. Then I remember all of the logic behind the fact that he can stay there safely and feel fine.

Then Hamish moves forward in his same doggy paddle style and is in John's arms. "Wow! Hamish, that's really good. Well done!" He bounces a little against John and smiles at me.

Then I hear the voice of the boy from the other family getting closer and turn around just has he says "What's wrong with your shoulder?" to John.

John looks away and his face reddens. It took him a long time to show his scar at all in public, at one point he was even swimming in a shirt. He was even reluctant to let me see it at first, but I coaxed him and he gradually became more and more comfortable. Setbacks like this really won't help him. The boy comes over him and his dad begins to pull him away, a lot easier in the water.

"Sorry, sorry. He doesn't mean anything. You know how kids are."

"It's fine." John says cringing a little "It's just a little scar." He tells the boy.

This explanation is insufficient so I add "My husband go this scar fighting in a war to defend our country, to keep people like you safe. He risked his life trying to save one of his friends and ended up being in the line of fire, causing him to get shot."

The boy quietens for a second then says simplistically "Brave solider, you're amazing. Thanks."

John smiles as the child swims off and his father apologies for him again, "No, not it's fine." John tells him and begins to play with Hamish "Thanks, love." He tells me and then puts Hamish on his back and swims across the pool.

I follow and beat him to the end and he laughs "Not a race. How are you so good at that you're like a fish or something."

I shrug and take Hamish from him and lift him around in the pool, setting him off giggling. John gets the rubber ring and puts him back in so that Hamish can sit on water and doesn't need to be held constantly.

"I like this." I tell him as he watches Hamish bobbing on the water.

"Swimming?"

"No, well yes but not that. You look gorgeous." I reach over and kiss him lightly.

"And you too. You know I love your curls, but there's something endearing about it looking flat like that." I trap Hamish's ring against the edge of the pool with my side so he's safe and lean to John properly.

"And I like that fact that your hardly wearing anything." I wrap my arms around him.

"_Sherlock. _Not in front of Hamish." He blushes and looks at our son, who's watching us in earnest.

"I'm sure he's heard more than-"

"Shut up now." He pulls away and flicks water at me. "You can't- my god he's 2 years old!"

"So, it won't hurt him."

"It's not good."

"Okay then. Hamish is getting cold, so we better get out." I tell him and go to the side to hop out. John takes Hamish out of the ring, hands me it and goes for the stairs. I go around and meet them to hold a towel for Hamish. I wrap him and begin to dry him, hoping to warm him up as possible.

We get the rest of the things and go into the changing room. I get Hamish dressed as John showers then go myself.

When we're ready we go straight outside and I give the pass back. "Thank you." John says and the girl smiles at him.

I have Hamish, who still seems a little cold in my arms and he's playing with my still damp hair. He seems to have some sort of fixation with it, he likes to pull a curl out and watch it spring back which often ends up being painful.

"That was great." John says as we walk to get a cab "I love you."

"As I do you."


	29. Occasion

"You look gorgeous. I really, really love it when you're dressed up like this." I say and kiss him, unable to resist.

"What do you mean by that?" He asks and pushes me away, smoothing down his uniform.

"That I like your uniform." I tell him and move forward to kiss him again. "Not that I have anything against you usual jumpers, but this…" I pick up one of the medals on his front. "Well, you look completely amazing, love."

"Thanks. No, Sherlock." He says and slaps my hand away as I begin to move it down his back

"But…" I moan as he pulls away, and pout.

"Stop that. For one thing, our son is right there." He gestures to Hamish watching television just behind us, "And the other, we have to leave in five minutes."

"Spoilsport." I say and turn away. "Hamish, look at Dad. What do you think?" I go over and switch the television off.

"Nice." Hamish says and stands up "Hung'y."

"We'll have something when we get there, don't want you spilling anything on your new shirt." John tells him and the phone rings "Come on, let's go." He twiddles the phone nervously and straightens and picks a piece of fluff from himself.

The car is waiting outside as we step onto the curb, as it had been organised by the head of the event. John's battalion were being praised at a function, and John had been picked to give a speech. I slide into the car and sit Hamish on my lap and take John's hand.

"You don't need to be nervous."

"I'm not. It's just seeing these people again, being dressed like this, it brings everything back, you know."

I bring his hand up and kiss it "Oh, love. Do you still want to do this? I can make excuses."

"No, no. We're going. " He says but grips my hand tighter. "Anyway, half the point of this is to see everyone again. And it'll be nice to meet the families I already know so much about."

"As long as you're fine. But what is Hamish going to do there?" At his name, Hamish turns from the window.

"There's some sort of kid's entertainment. Not sure."

"Before or after the speeches?"

"Before."

"What's yours about?"

John looks taken aback "You mean you didn't read it?"

"Well no…I wanted it to be a surprise."

"But you still ask now because….."

"I don't think I like surprises." John laughs at this and looks to Hamish, who's staring up at him.

"What is it, Hai?"

Hamish just tries to climb off my lap and go to him, "You can't move over, it's dangerous. Wait until we stop then you can hug Dad." Hamish sits still again and John lets go of my hand and reaches over to him.

"Are you okay?" He asks and Hamish nods. "Good." John says and Hamish smiles

"I think he saw you were upset, I mean after you laughed you looked despondent again." I explain and John gives the same almost bittersweet smile.

"So he wanted to comfort me? God, he's so sweet. I know he's my son, so I'm probably biased, but he has to be the most adorable two year old ever."

"Scientifically, it would be impossible to make that declaration without evidence of everyone that has ever lives to the age of two, but despite this I would that I agree."

"Against science? You?" John teases and I lean my head on his shoulder my arm still around Hamish on my lap, making sure not to crumple the material.

"Shhhhh." I whisper and John puts his hand on the back of my head, playing with my curls.

"You didn't have to come you know."

I sit up so I can see his face properly "You really think I would miss this?" I ask him, my tone slightly offended.

"You'll be bored. You won't like half of the people that are there." John admits.

"Not if you're there. These people were all part of your life once, and I want to meet them."

"Okay. I just didn't think you'd like it there."

"John. Of course I'll like it. You're there aren't you?" He laughs and kisses me over the seat.

"You're adorable too." John says, and I feign looking horrified

"Me? Sociopathic, 'freak', genius, me adorable? I don't think anyone else would agree with you on that."

"Don't call yourself those things." John says.

"We're here Captain." The driver says, speaking for the first time.

"Thank you." John tells him as we get out and then comes around to take Hamish from me. As soon as Hamish gets to him, he hugs him tight.

"Hey," John holds Hamish out in front of him. You're squishing me." He kisses Hamish's cheek "Are you walking?" Hamish shakes his head and clings onto John. "Okay, okay."

John says and starts walking. Behind us, a man shouts "Watson? John Watson?" and John's head whips around.

"Simon! Simon Pepper. It's great to see you" John says as he shakes hands with the thickset dark haired man then is pulled towards him.

"You too. And this is your son?"

"Hamish, yes. And this is Sherlock, my husband." John grabs my arm and pulls me forward.

"Good to meet you." Simon says and shakes my hand roughly "We better get walking in. This is my wife, Eve and the boys are Scott and Dean." Simon says

"Hello." John says to Eve and the two children, who greet him back.

We're almost to the door when Simon speaks again "No offense, Watson, but no one would've guessed that you'd gay."

"No, me neither to be honest. But it's true." John takes my hand and pulls so I'm walker closer, our arms brushing together "This berk had to go and make me fall in love with him, thus ending my heterosexuality."

"You make that sound like I forced you into it." I say as a young boy dressed in a cadet uniform opens the door, saluting John and Simon as they walk past of which they reciprocate.

"You practically did, I mean how was I supposed to resist when you look like that."

"You only love me for my looks?" I ask, raising an eyebrow as Hamish starts to move around, and John puts him down to walk, holding his hand as we go into a corridor.

"Shut up. You know it's not that. I am not going to give you a long speech about what I love about you, just to stroke your ego."

"Maybe I just don't know?" I say, stopping him and turning him to me.

"You have an eidetic memory, of course you do, I'm not going to flatter you because you feel like it. Now I have a speech to make, people to meet." He walks off, Hamish almost running behind him- he's fallen into a military stride rather than his usual walk.

Simon laughs as we're left behind "He must love you then, to give up women and everything." He says, following as I catch up to John and take his spare hand again. John hears it and answers for me;

"Yeah, he's lucky like that." Which makes me laugh.

"Yes, very lucky to have you. Despite your choice in jumpers." John turns and smiles at me, and we finally come to the door after the never-ending corridor.

"I'm no letting you off on that, I know you like my clothes. But we better go in."

The door is again opened by a young boy, and we walk in. The room is vast, there are chandeliers and a dance floor, on the opposite side of the room there are tables

"Captain Watson-Holmes." John says to a woman bending over a table with some sort of registration forms and he tells us to go to a table at the far side of the room, near the windows.

"See you later then." Simon says and goes to a table at the right if the section.

"I feel like they're all judging us." John says as we sit down, they have even provided a highchair between our marked names for Hamish as efficient as expected of the army.

"And that bothers you?" I say as we sit down, John breaks the conversation to talk to the others at the table, they all seem really happy to see him which is predictable, everyone likes John

"No, no. " He says when he finally finishes "I'm just being defensive, they won't be saying anything bad, just that they're all looking."

"They seem to be looking in admiration to me." I say and he smiles again

"So the food will come in a minute." John says, just as the waiters begin to appear. "And you are eating. Don't give me any of that crap tonight."

"Bored." Hamish announces, and half of the table laugh,

"Food will be here in a minute, Hai. You can wait until then, right?"

"Din.'"

"Yeah, it'll be lots of food, eat as much as you can." John tells him and goes back to talking to the man opposite.

The meal is done, and the children's entertainment is finished with- a ridiculous magician and some moronic sing-a-long with people on bear costumes. Now all of the children are tired, so they have been sufficiently quietened for the rest of the night.

So now, we're onto the speeches. A grey haired man with a beard speaks first "Welcome, welcome, We are here tonight to honour many of our soldiers, praise their bravery and sacrifice and remember the fallen." He turns and a projector being begins to flick through pictures of the dead soldiers, and gives a speech about each of them. All around me, people are in tears. During a few of the pictures, John leans forward to me and explains how he treated them, and how close he was in some cases to saving them. He takes my hand under the table and I turn back to him, putting my arm around his shoulders. He smiles weakly, leaning into me

"Thanks." He mutters and we watch the rest, until the man finishes and introduces a solider. This man gives a speech, about his inspiration to go to war, and how inspiring every solider here is.

A second solider goes up and talks about his time in Afghanistan, and all that the soldiers' experience there, John stiffens underneath my arm so I put my head on his shoulder, squeezing his hand and he seems to relax a little "I'm next." He whispers in my ear, just as the man speaking finishes off

The grey haired man comes back "And now, Captain John Watson, of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, who earned the Military Cross for extraordinary acts of bravery and determination, thus saving many lives that may have otherwise have been given up on." I give John's hand one last squeeze as he gets up and walks to the stage.

John stands in front of the podium and begins talking, he gives an account of his time in the war, of the people he'd met and the people he and become close to, of the people that he had saved, of those that he hadn't been able to, then he started to talk about when he got shot, and how he hadn't wanted to go back to civilian life despite how awful the war was. Then, like all the soldiers before him, he talks about his family and then eventually Hamish and I. And John being John, his words are beautiful and kind, much more than I deserve, at this point I pick up Hamish and put him on my lap.

"Look at Dad, he's talking about us." I whisper to him and Hamish shouts to him. John, not fazed by the interruption, smiles over "Hello, Hamish. Yeah it is you I'm talking about."

The crowd laughs and John finishes his speech by asking the crowd to raise a glass to honour the fallen and the room is filled with the noise of clapping, cheering and clinking glasses.

He steps down and comes back to the table as the man in charge of the even goes back to the front, and tells everyone to dance. "That was wonderful." I say and John pulls me up "What are we doing?"

"Dancing." John says and then stops "Can you watch him?" He says to one of the men at the table, nodding at Hamish the man nods and moves into John's chair to talk to Hamish.

"Go on. Get your bum on that dance floor, I know you were taught ballroom." I stay still and he rolls his eyes but drags me forward.

We get there and a Waltz plays "I'm very proud of you." I say and we begin the dance, John's forehead on mine. I'm happy to be silent, and we just dance, closer than the other couples and he reaches to kiss me.


	30. Rainbow

_**AN: **__Idea from _**Lunabell Marauder Knyte** . _Published finally after over a month. So I hope that this is good enough, after all that time._

* * *

"I hate this weather." John says, getting up from the bed and looking out of the window.

"What do you expect? We live in England." I answer as he stares out at the dark grey sky.

"Which means that it's our right to complain about the weather, whatever it's like. But it was so sunny and warm before now it's about to throw it down."

"British summertime. And as if you'd move away." I say, knowing how 'Queen and Country' and completely British he is.

"No. But I wanted to go out and we can't do anything if it's raining."

"It still might not. Could just be cloudy, raining a little." I say, sitting up to pull him back under the covers "Stay in the warm. Hamish isn't awake yet. We might as well enjoy the quiet."

"I promised him we'd go out today though." He sits on the side of the bed, still staring out of the window.

"He'll be fine. We'll figure something out. Come here." I wrap my arm around his waist and pull him over so he's laid out beside me.

"You'll get bored of we're doing nothing all day." John says, finally relenting and snuggling into my side.

"I said we'd think of something. And if I get _really _bored, we could always take Hamish downstairs and you could entertain me."

"And how would I do that?" John says, raising his eyebrows.

"I'll have to show you later then, if you don't know. But first, we have to entertain our son." I say and get up.

"You made me get back in bed, cuddle up to you, then leave me here?" John says, slightly annoyed.

I turn away from him, laughing a little. I get dressed, making sure that he watches my every move like a hawk. "You are such a tease." John moans and turns over on the bed.

I lean over and briefly kiss him, moving away when he starts to pull me closer, "No, not now. You said we were going out."

"We can't. The weather!" John gestures at the window indicating that it's now raining.

"I know. The rain can be nice. We have waterproofs. We can go out, I'll think of something to do then."

"Get Hai up then, we'll see if he wants to go out in the rain." John seems to be a little annoyed about the prospect of getting soaked and standing in the rain all day.

"He'll love it. Puddles, everywhere pretty much empty, probably even just watching the rain itself fall." I say and step out of the bedroom.

Hamish is laid out on the bed (which still has small side bars, so he won't end up falling out and he's reminded about going down the stairs on his own which are too steep and one of us needs to be there with him), still sleeping. I bend over him "Wake up, we're going out today." I whisper, right in his ear and touch his shoulder.

"Out?" Hamish asks, as soon as his eyes open. He wraps his arms around my neck and clings on so I'll lift him up.

"Yes, it's raining but we're still going. We'll have breakfast, you can get dressed then we'll set off." Hamish smiles sleepily and leans his head against me. "Are you still tired? Do you want to go back to bed?" I ask him and he shakes his head, closing his eyes a little nonetheless. "You are. We'll sit on the sofa, okay? You can go back to sleep for a while then we'll go out."

"No. Out." Hamish says as we get to the hallway, then he yawns.

"Alright then, I have something to do first. So have something to eat then watch TV." I say, knowing that this way he would fall back to sleep but he wouldn't protest about it.

"'Kay." Hamish says as I sit him down and take his bowl from John.

"He looks tired." John says and gives me a second bowl. He's made porridge, I kind of like it at least when it's mixed with a lot of golden syrup.

"Yeah, I thought he should watch TV for a little bit, while I finish working."

"But you don't have a case-" John starts, then looks up at me from his own bowl, understanding the real meaning.

We eat the rest of the meal almost in silence as a way to make sure that Hamish stays quiet and won't get too excited, so he will be able to fall back to sleep.

Hamish is stood on the sofa looking out of the window "Colours."

"Hmmm? What are you talking about?" John asks and lifts him down from the sofa; he puts Hamish on the floor and helps him into a jumper.

"In the sky." Hamish says, now dressed, and gets up onto the sofa again "P'etty."

"Ah, you mean there's a rainbow. You know there's gold at the end of those." John says and I shake my head, he notices but ignores me.

"Wha'?" Hamish asks him, astonished.

"Yeah, the leprechauns put it there. They put the rainbow there so that they remember where they put their gold, if they follow it they can always get to the gold, which would be at the very end of the rainbow."

"The rainbow is caused by the same thing those in bubbles are, the refraction of light. The white light hits the side of the raindrops and is spilt up, refracted, and it then shows all of the different colours as you now see in the rainbow." I tell Hamish, seen as John's explanation was insufficient and just blatantly made up and wrong.

John gives me a Look; which means, 'He doesn't understand a word of that, and be quiet for a moment and just let him believe in this.'

"Wha le'cauhans?" Hamish asks a little bewildered.

"They're like pixies, kind of. They're tiny men, Irish, they're always dressed in green. They'll get very angry if their money is stolen though, so if anyone found it they better go quickly." I roll my eyes, knowing exactly where John was going with this.

John winks at me gleefully over Hamish's shoulder- I'm at the table while they're both in the living room and he had turned around to talk properly- knowing that I'd be annoyed with his idea of an outing, but that I'd go anyway, and that I wouldn't be able to moan because it would discourage Hamish.

"We go?" Hamish asks, his face full of wonder.

"We'll have to be very careful of the leprechauns, and they'll probably get there before us. It's not likely that we'll get to the gold." John says, but Hamish doesn't seem to find this discouraging, he jumps off the sofa and goes into the hallway where the coatrack is, jumping up to try and get his from the hook.

"You want to go right now?" John walks over to him, lifts him so he can get the coat himself and then gets his own and mine, "Sherlock. Come on. We'll leave now seen as Hamish wants to." He comes around the corner and holds my coat out.

"Fine. This is ridiculous. Why make him believe that we can find something that never has or never will exist?" I say this just quietly enough so Hamish doesn't hear anything.

"It's still fun, he's excited, look. He won't even be that disappointed when nothing's there because we'll make sure that he has a lot of fun trying to find it."

"Why don't we just tell him now if it'll be so fun just walking around in an attempt to find this mythical gold?"

"You wouldn't. You know that it would take away a lot of the fun for him. Try to enjoy this too, Sherlock, don't think about the fact that it's something silly and it isn't true."

"I will enjoy it, I'm with you and Hamish. It's just the lying to him." The whole lying thing was still a sore spot with John, because he knew that even though I would always tell him the truth if he asked or in almost any situation, he knew that I would lie if there was something I needed to do to protect him, he didn't like it but he knew that it would work the other way so he just left it like that.

"It's not lying. It's broadening his imagination, letting him be a child." By now, Hamish had some back form where he'd been eagerly waiting at the door and was staring up at us. John stepped forward and held out his hand "We'll go now, come on. Sorry we kept you waiting." John says and they walk out, I follow behind them and lock the door.

"Can you see the rainbow over the houses, Hai?" John asks as soon as we get onto the street. Hamish shakes his head and John lifts him up, dragging the hood of his jacket up with his other hand "Keep your hood up or you'll get cold" John tells him and Hamish nods, not really listening. "Which way then?" Hamish points to the end of the street and we follow.

The streets aren't that busy, due to the weather and the quiet is annoying. No one is around for me to deduce and the people that I do see seem to be boring. I hold out my arms and Hamish comes over to me, and John tells him more about the leprechauns, creating a whole world of them.

"Inaccurate." I say as he tells Hamish of a kind leprechaun who gives sweets to good children.

"How? And since when did you know anything about leprechauns?" John says as if they were something real to debate.

"I looked them up on my phone while you were talking."

"Is that what you were doing? Anyway, why would I be wrong?" John says, his tone lighter but still a little annoyed.

"I didn't mean to offend you. But leprechauns are supposedly angry, so one being kind as in that story would be wrong."

"Well, this one is different. And I don't know why I'm getting annoyed over something like this, I shouldn't. You wouldn't agree or know of leprechauns, you said you'd deleted it all. I'm sorry for getting annoyed at you, love." He says and takes my free hand and I press into him.

"Don't be sorry, it doesn't matter. I know that you get annoyed over the little things that aren't important, it's adorable, really."

"You can't call me 'adorable', Sherlock. I was a Captain in the army. Not adorable."

"You use that word for me sometimes, and Hamish all the time. It's completely appropriate." I tell him and he hits my arm, then kisses my cheek quickly.

"For goodness sake, I'll just have to cope with that, wont I?" He groans, smiling enough that know he isn't really that bothered.

"It's going." Hamish moans, looking up the rainbow which indeed seems to be fading.

"That means the leprechauns are close, we'll have to run." John says and I let Hamish onto the floor, we're close to the park now so we'll be on the grass and Hamish will be able to run freely.

He sets off and we follow, calling him back as soon as he gets too far ahead. "I guess I have to admit that telling him things like this is good, he has fun at least. Even if he is disappointed when he finds out the truth." I say as John almost slips on the wet grass and I catch his arm.

John gasps "Did the great Sherlock Holmes-Watson, the world's only consulting detective, just admit that he was wrong?" He laughs at this

"I didn't say I was wrong, just that it could work on some occasions." I say lightly, not looking at him directly.

"You did. I love this." John's still laughing and I roll my eyes "Don't look at me like that. It doesn't happen often and I want to enjoy it while I can." John says and takes my hand, then breaks into a run after Hamish.

"That must be the end, Hai." John shouts and we see where the arch of light begins to drop. "In the woods." Hamish follows this and we see that the rainbow seems to end there, and Hamish pushes through the trees, just out of sight.

We hear him squealing and move faster, the noise seems to be one of delight but this still doesn't seem to be normal. He should have found an empty place, he should have come back to use looking mournful. John gets to the group of trees and moves around them just before me "Oh God."

I step forward, and there's something there, a dark, cauldron-like pot, brimming over with chocolate coins. I see his mark all over it, the fact that even though it's overflowing some coins have been taken, there's a note on the top. Hamish is up at the pot now, running the coins of chocolate through his fingers.

"Mine!" He announces and laughs, then hands some coins to both John and I. John has the note in his hands and smiles. "Your brother." He says, grinning "He's really outdone himself this time."

"Of course Mycroft would do this. Probably just to irritate me, seen as Hamish will be sent hyperactive and he'll believe in these things a lot longer now."

"You can't admit it's nice?" John asks, opening one of the coins and giving it to Hamish, how is now practically dancing around the pot, laughing and clapping his hands.

"Well it is a nice gesture for Hamish. He is good to him, isn't he?" I say, rather reluctantly.

"Yes. To all of us, he's always looking after you, Sherlock and you need to accept that he doesn't do everything just to annoy you. Though most of it probably is."

"He could be a lot better at it. You know that more than anyone." John looks down at his shoes, then puts and arm around me.

"Yeah. I don't know, I just think you two could have a better relationship."

"We could, but I don't really need him, not in the same way I need you. Not like I need Hamish to always be here, to always be with us."

"I love it when you're sweet." John gets Hamish, making sure he doesn't run off and picks him up "You might not need Mycroft, but you do appreciate him, may love him a little not that you'd ever admit it." I shake my head put don't verbally protest and John pulls me into a hug.


	31. Beach

**_AN_**_: This chapter is based on the prompt of Hamish's first time at the beach, from the fab whoaswetha._

* * *

We ended up going on the train, something that Hamish seemed to be excited about. He'd been watching Thomas the Tank Engine lately and I think he assumed that our train would have a face and talk to the other trains as they passed, so he did seem slightly disappointed as we got on.

Though a few minutes later, after the train sets off, he's over that and climbs over his own chair onto my lap to look out of the window. "Do you like the train again now?" John laughs.

"Fun train. I go walk?"

"I thought you liked looking out of the window." John says, stretching. He hasn't slept. Last night had been spent looking for a cat-loving arsonist, and we'd got back just a few hours before this train was scheduled to leave. I had told him that he should take the time and sleep and we'd go another day, but he didn't want to disappoint our son. He said that is I could function in no sleep at all, though through this he was still reprimanding me-he always tried to make me sleep, even on a case, which is irritating-, he could go on the few hours he got in the car on the way to the site. His argument was his time fighting in the war, which I couldn't argue with (much).

"You stay there, sleep. I'll show him the rest of the train"

"You need sleep too" he says, in a sort of muffled groan but trying to add and edge into his voice that was there to instruct me.

"I am not yet experiencing the side effects from lack of sleep as you are. I'll be fine for a while longer-I could probably last a few more days if you'd let me- just try to sleep now. You'll feel better"

"Yeah." He hunches in the chair, getting comfortable and yawns "Since when did I let you order me around?"

"You always do as I ask"

"When you ask nicely, yes. Most of the time, stop gloating"

"And if you say no, I can usually persuade you otherwise"

"Shut up and let me sleep" he folds his jacket, which had been on the seat beside him, into a pillow and closes his eyes.

I get up and lift Hamish with me "We'll go to the front. Do you want to meet the driver?" I ask, taking Hamish by the shoulders so I can steady him within the narrow gaps between the isles of seats in the train.

"Fire?" he asks, a little apprehensive but still excited. He was thinking of the steam trains he's seen on other programs.

"No, not anymore. We don't have steam engines any more, these run by electric" I say, about to explain the full mechanics of the train-or at least the impact of the train on the tracks (therefore on a body) and the amount of electric the generator can produce (therefore how it could be used to shock someone intentionally)- when a man pushes past Hamish roughly.

"Will you be careful." I snap at him and he stares at me like I disgust him. I look up at him and add "Better be more careful with that wife of yours too, she'll tell the police soon"

"What are you talking about, you d**k?"

"She'll show them the bruises, and your past GBH record will mean that the judge's decision will be guilty, and you will be convicted"

"How would you _ever _know that? Get away from me, you complete tw*t"

"Gladly. I don't want to be in the same airspace as you, let alone let my son anywhere near you" I say, having moved Hamish slightly behind my back a few sentences ago.

"Weird b******" he spits and walks back the way he came, obviously scared that I'll hand him into the police, which I'll probably get John to do later. I have his name from the badge he went to cover as soon as I began speaking about his violence.

I lift Hamish slightly as we get to the doors so he can press the button, the door opens and it's a short walk to the driver's cabin. The man won't let us through, some health and safety thing (I argue, deduce the guard, call out to the driver behind the door, but it doesn't work) , so promise to take Hamish later; another day, and we go back to the seats.

I tell Hamish to be quiet as we approach, seeing John already asleep. I pull him up onto the seat beside me and he climbs onto my lap, staring out of the window. We have an hour left on the train, so Hamish-hyper with excitement-is going to get bored soon. I lean over the table and take the bag from the seat next to John. I unzip the cards he packed, ever ready for any situation, and teach Hamish to play Snap (he finds it hard to quieten his voice at times, but John only stirs-always alert to Hamish's voice-and never fully wakes up).

The train screeches a little as it comes to a stop and I put away the card, which had been arranged on the table as Hamish sorted them back into suits, in order, and wake John up

"We're here." I lean over and kiss his cheek, a method of waking him up that is always effective, and which he prefers.

"Sea?" Hamish asks, jumping and tugging on the leg of my trousers

John sgets up, thankfully we hadn't had to go quickly as this was the train's last stop, and he answers Hamish straight away, seemingly feeling better now he'd slept a little "Yeah. Are you gonna paddle? Build a sandcastle? Dig a hole?"

"All o' them" Hamish almost shouts and I take his hand as we go to the door of the train.

We get out of the station and John finds a taxi which takes us straight to the beach. Rather than going straight to the beach, we go to the shops along the promenade and get Hamish a bucket and spade, a ball and some drinks.

"Good thing we got warm weather" John comments as we head down the stairs to the sand. The steps are steep and there is no handle so I take the bag and the things we'd bought and John picks Hamish up.

I don't comment, searching for a spot on the beach, analysing the people that sit near any of the spaces to make sure that they're all fairly safe and won't either become irritating (though almost everyone will, I mean on a much larger scale-Anderson level of stupidity and annoying) or could be violent in some way. I find a good spot and lead them through the crowds.

"Get the towel out and lay it down then" John instructs and I go into the bag and lay it down on the floor. "We'll get deck chairs later, we have to go to the sea first"

John turns around and points to it "What do you think, Hai?"

"Big" Hamish says "Get down?"

"Wait a minute" John says and shifts Hamish to his hip and takes his shoes off with his spare hand "You need to feel the sand properly"

Hamish looks at him doubtfully, then over at me. I smile at him encouragingly and throw myself down on the towel. "And you" John says, not looking at me.

"What?"

"It's hot, you have a long sleeved short on still and trousers. I packed you a T-Shirt and some old shorts because I knew you wouldn't wear them here. Get changed and we'll go down to the sea"

"Why?"

"Because you'll get heatstroke, do we have to go through this again? Like almost every year? You know you end up getting changed. There are beach huts up there, use one. Wait a sec though" he says as I drag myself up reluctantly.

He puts Hamish down onto the sand and Hamish's face changes. His face is tense, he' s analysing as he does in all new situations, and he scrunches his toes up, then takes a few steps and then bends down for a handful of sand, staring at it.

"Do you like it?" John says, impatiently- though he can read Hamish almost as well as I can, just in a different way.

Hamish frowns, still deciding, then runs around the space where the towel is set. "I guess that would be a yes." John laughs and looks up to the beach huts "Go. You can't wear that on a beach"

I groan dramatically, rolling my eyes and he laughs again

When I get back, feeling slightly ridiculous in the new, casual clothes, but cooler and able to focus on other things, Hamish is piling the sand into a bright bucket, not getting much out it in. John is sat beside him, seemingly building a mound just in front of him. He looks up as I approach

"You look better"

"I thought you liked how I dress" I say, feigning offense.

"I meant you would feel better like that. You know I love everything you wear, drama queen" he teases and kisses me as I sit next to him on the sand. I see a couple a few metres away from us (this beach is crowded, there was hardly any space for us) staring and I pull him closer, deepening the kiss. The couple look away, embarrassed I kiss him for a moment longer, until Hamish hits my leg-which was positioned right in front of him with the spade, annoyed he was being ignored.

"Are you done?" I ask him, indicating the bucket and shuffling forward.

"Make it" he grins, patting the sand in the bucket

"You want me to do it?" I ask nod he nods, so I quickly turn the bucket over and pat the sides, then the top but I can already feel that the sand inside is not compact enough and looking at the rest I can see that the sand isn't the right type to stay together. Then, as I lift the bucket off, just as I predicted the sand stays in the shape of the bucket, almost perfectly formed and Hamish's then it immediately breaks down and he moans.

"No. Castle" he bats at the collapsed pile of sand, trying to form it back into the bucket's shape.

"The sand isn't the right density, Hai. We would need the wet kind from neared the sea in order for it to stay together"

"Get it?" he asks, standing up.

"Do you want to down to the sea then?" John says and goes into the bag again.

"Paddle" Hamish starts to walk off.

"Come here. You need suncream on. Then we can go" John says, crawling forward and grabbing Hamish's arm.

"No. Don't like it" Hamish moans, stamping his feet

"You'll get burnt if you don't. And that'll hurt. Stay still"

"No" Hamish tries to pull his arm away from John's grip.

"You _will _let me put this on you, or we are going home." Hamish quietens then, deciding.

"We can't go home now. There aren't any trains for hours, unless we get a cab, which will charge us too much or we could switch trains I guess."

"Not helping, Sherlock." John sits back on his heels and pulling Hamish gently with him "Maybe you could put some on yourself, that would encourage him"

"I don't want to. I can do with the sunburn, I don't like the oil or anything on my skin"

"Oh, I'll have to remember that" John says, raising his eyebrows "But you are not risking melanoma because you don't like the feel of something. And I am not having this argument with you _and _Hamish"

"Fine" I take the bottle from him and but on the suncream, then give it back to him "Better?"

"Yes, of course it is." He turns to Hamish "Your turn" Hamish still looks downhearted and squirms a little but he lets John put it on him. When he's finished he puts it on himself and gets up.

"We'll be able to watch our things from down there, right?"

"Well yes, of course. And no one around here has the habits of a thief, so I'd find it unlikely. But I can't be bothered to down to the sea anyway, so it wouldn't matter"

"Hamish's first time in the sea? You don't want to see it?"

"I can watch from here, and lip read. It's fine"

"Why don't you want to go down there?" John asks, staring at me.

"I don't see the point. It's cold and there are a lot of other people down there. Why swim there when you could go to a pool?"

"It's different, better in some ways. And it won't be too cold. Come with us. Unless there's another reason you don't want to go down….?" He probes

"You've seen me in the sea before. But that was abroad. Warmer. As well as less people being there. You were thinking I was scared, which is ridiculous for the reasons I've just stated"

"I thought maybe…with that case a while back…Anyway, it doesn't matter. Please, come with us?"

"If you're so desperate for it, for no apparent reason, then I'll go" John smiles and offers me his hand, pulling me up.

"It's nice to do it together" he says lightly "You can go ahead then, Hai" Hamish runs down the beach and we walk behind him, hands still linked. When he's a few meters away from the water's edge, walking back towards us

He raises his arms and John picks him up "Don't you like it now?"

"Don't know" Hamish answers, leaning into him.

"Why?" I ask, he seems to be nervous though he's only shown excitement for the beach so far.

He doesn't answer and we get to the water line, John stepping in first "It's freezing!" he exclaims, running back as a wave comes in "I thought the sun would have warmed the water a bit"

I step into the water, testing the temperature "It has been warmed by the sun. Step in for a second and the body temperature regulates so it doesn't see as bad"

"Then it will drop again" John says, moving back into the water nontheless. He puts Hamish on the floor, just away from the water and lets the sea wash over his feet. Hamish runs back, squealing

"Cold?" John laughs as Hamish walks back towards us, dipping his toes into the edge of the water and running back from the wave. He goes further into the water each time, and I take his hand in case he falls. As he gets more inquisitive, he begins to move forward, then he bends down- and gets soaked as the wave comes, as the water was almost to his knees anyway, and splashes John and I.

"Bold now, aren't we?" I ask and he laughs, kicking water at me and tripping. I pull him up by his arm in time, so only half of his body is wet.

"See what happens when you splash, Hai? You have to be more careful" John says, scooping water into his hand and aiming it at Hamish's legs.

"Dada!" Hamish screams and we end up having a full scale water fight in the sea.

We walk out when Hamish starts shivering, and John goes ahead to get a towel as I try to warm him up a little, rubbing his back and holding him close to my body.

John comes over with a towel, swathing Hamish in it and getting him dry, despite the fact he was still clothed. John changes him and we sit out in the sun, drying like that.

When he's warm enough, I take Hamish down nearer the sea and we build multiple sandcastles. John creating a moat around them.

When the castle structure is to Hamish's liking, he picks up some stones and shells from around it and decorates it.

We have lunch on the beach, John making some awful jokes about sandy-wiches.

We spend the rest of the time digging a large hole, which Hamish loves and despite it being seemingly tedious work it's strangely enjoyable.

We leave as it starts to get colder, and Hamish falls asleep in John's arms almost as soon as we leave the beach.

"That was a good day, despite the lack of murderers"

"Oh god, Sherlock. You can't say things like that. Not good. But at least the sentiment was there, and that by your standards it means it was a lovely, fantastic day"


	32. Innoculations

John steps in front of me and greets the surgery's receptionist, then turns to introduce me to her "This is Natalie " she smiles at me from the window and holds out a hand "And my husband, Sherlock. And of course I'm brought Hamish in before"

"Of course I know that, John" the receptionist says and giggles a little as I reluctantly take the hand then drop it after 2 seconds, she looks confused but doesn't mention anything. "You mention him pretty much every time we talk." She says and John reddens.

"I didn't think…I haven't known you for long. Anyway-" he mumbles and pulls Hamish towards him "We've brought Hamish for his jabs, before school". The receptionist turns and types something into her computer "You're with Danny, he's in his usual room. He'll call you in, of course." she tells John and smiles down at Hamish. "And I'm sure you'll be very brave" we turn away and I follow John to a small area of seats.

"Why can't you give him the jabs? It would be a lot easier, and he'd be a lot more relaxed" I say and pass Hamish my phone, I'd put a game on for him to play that I had intentionally downloaded for when he was bored and couldn't run around.

"Don't sit on the floor Hai." John says and lifts Hamish onto the seat next to him. Hamish, still focusing on his game, climbs onto John's knee and sits back. Automatically, John's arm goes around him and his other hand brushes through Hamish's hair "They don't let me. Relations aren't allowed to look after a patient, they say it might hinder decisions and it just wouldn't be professional" John says and kisses Hamish's hair. He's worrying about something. Something with Hamish, with the injections.

"What's wrong, love?" I ask and lean closer to him.

"Nothing" he sighs but I keep looking at him "Obviously, it's totally beneficial and I hate feeling this, none of this stuff bothers me and I know it'll only hurt him for a second- but I hate seeing it. When the metal goes into his skin, into his vein. Just because he's my son, I guess. I know that it's fine- all my medical training says that- but there's a part of me that just wants to rip the syringe away from his arm" John shakes his head. "Ignore me. I'm being stupid, none of that made any sense"

I put my arm around him and Hamish looks up as he shifts "No, it makes sense. I feel it too. I hate it. It's illogical and I shouldn't think like that. I can't stand it when I have illogical thoughts, but with Hamish-and with you, rather often- these thoughts come to me and I can't shake them off" I say, almost in a whisper.

"Being parents" John qualifies and leans back in the chair. Hamish looks at him, annoyed and being moved again.

"And because of me, the cocaine. That can't be beneficial to you thoughts as they inject him"

"Well, yes. Definitely." He says and shifts away from me. "I don't think about it when I'm working or whatever, but it makes me think of what you were like when it's him"

"I'm sorry you have to think of that, really. I didn't ever think that it would hurt you"

"It's gone now, we can't change any of that. I wish that you hadn't felt the need to destroy yourself like that, but I can't change that. Because you would never even think of taking anything ever again."

"I think of everything, John. Every possibility of any situation, so of course I would. But you're right that I wouldn't do it even if it was the best solution to a problem, I couldn't afford that. "

"Drugs will _never_ be the best solution to any problem." John's leaning forward in the chair now, stiff and biting back anger "That is awful, Sherlock. Please don't say anything like that again" he finishes and slumps back again, realising that despite the other attempts at hiding it Hamish is looking at him, worried "Don't"

"I can't help those thoughts. I didn't want to upset you. I loathe that. I don't want to do it."

"Okay, okay. I know it's just how your mind works. It isn't intentional" John says and pulls me up as Hamish's name comes over the intercom "Come on, don't look so forlorn. You're better now"

We walk down a short corridor and into a small office, smaller than John's own at least "Hi" John and the doctor, Danny, greet each other briefly and I just watch them. I've met him before, one time when John dragged me out with him when he went for drinks with the other doctors, needless to say he never tried to make me go with him again.

"Hamish, want to hop up on here for me?" the other doctor indicates a step next to the hospital bed. Hamish jumps up on the bed and smiles a little, seemingly unfazed. We had explained the process of the jabs to him this morning (he's obviously had them before) but right now he didn't seem too scared. Then again, he had been like this with his earlier jabs then ended up crying and having to be held in place for the injection. So we were unsure of how he was going to react when Danny brought out the needle.

John sits on the chair beside the bed and I stand behind Danny. "Look, this is the injection and it'll just go into your arm here" he taps Hamish's arm lightly and John rolls up the sleeve of his T-Shirt "And then you won't get poorly later"

"Wouldn't it be better if he sat with me or Sherlock?" John asks as Hamish begins to squirm and move down the bed closer to him, away from Danny and the threatening needle "I mean that's how I do it"

Danny looks around at him, his stance tightening, he doesn't want the advice but he goes with it anyway (probably the fact that he never wanted to be a doctor, was forced into the profession by his parents, so he doesn't really have the same enthusiasm or skills as John does) "Yeah, sit him with you. He'll probably keep still then"

John lifts Hamish from the bed and onto his knee, Hamish clings onto him, lip trembling. Danny bends down in front of them and John turns Hamish around so he faces to the right and I move around so he'll be looking straight at me "Hai, come on. Keep still. It won't hurt really. And you don't want to get really ill" John says softly, right into Hamish's as Danny nears him with the needle. John starts to stroke his hand through Hamish's curls, a motion that usually calms him and helps him sleep. Hamish twists so his face is buried in John's jumper and his arm is tucked to his side.

"You're brave, Hamish. You can do this. You don't need to be scared" I say and bend down to his eye level.

"Not" Hamish moans, the noise barely audible.

"You aren't scared?" I take his hand, the arm the injection will go into and pull it out "A lot of people would be, and that's okay. But if you aren't, then that's very good."

"So you'll let Danny give you the jab?" John asks and Hamish sniffs but nods, his arm stiff at his side.

"Good" Danny says and takes Hamish' s arm lightly Hamish immediately turns his head to watch. This isn't supposed to happen, in older people it can make them feel faint so I distract him.

"Hai?" He turns his head "Want me to tell you a story?" Hamish nods as Danny gets closer with the needle, waiting until I start and he is sufficiently distracted.

"And Dada" Hamish instructs and John begins

"There was once a prince, who was always alone, he pretended that he was fine like that, that his job hunting the villains was enough" I catch on, knowing where the story was going.

"He wasn't a good prince though, and one day a prince from a different land came, this was a good prince"

"And the two princes went on adventures together, the first prince, who people started to realise wasn't bad at all, he defeated all the baddies and people were there to hail him. Though there were always people there that hated the prince, and were mean to him put the two princes fought them together. The first prince's genius to outwit all of the criminals" Danny injects Hamish but Hamish only winces a little, barely noticing though his eyes well with tears involuntarily

"Well done, Hamish. You were good" Danny says and gets up, going to a draw then handing Hamish a lolly and a sticker "Bye"

John stands up and thanks the other doctor "No" Hamish interrupts.

"What is it? No what?" I ask and take him from John's lap as John signs a few forms on the desk.

"End of the story" Hamish demands. John laughs lightly and I begin.

"The second prince, the good prince, used his immense bravery to save the other prince many times. And the first prince was getting better, just because the good prince was with him. They fought the battles together and always came out better-in the end- because of this"

"And then the two princes realised, something which they had both known from the beginning really" we walk out of the office then, John wrapping his arm around me and placing his hand on my hip "that they loved each other, and then later, they begin a family and they were truly happy" John finishes and places a hand on my cheek to turns my face to kiss me

"Again" Hamish orders and we both laugh, knowing that we'll have to tell this over and over again.


	33. Nursery

_**AN:** So the Nursery chapter. I've been putting this off really, I guess I just don't want Hamish to grow up. This chapter is also quite long, I just wanted to fit a lot in._

* * *

"He should go to a state school"

"We can afford a private education, and I'm sure he'll just end up bored in a normal school, this will be a lot better for him" John and I had been having this argument for days, he was obviously arguing the latter, he had no idea of how stuck up and ridiculous private school children are.

"We can find a good one. I'll make sure he receives the best education possible. I'll hire a tutor, teach him myself if I have to."

"Which he will at a private school. And you teach him anyway"

"The children are all mini Mycrofts, yet more malicious. He shouldn't be around that all the time"

"It's only nursery, it's not as if he has real lessons this year" John says, of course he's right with that, and at this age the children wouldn't have been that affected by the part of society they live in.

"So we try that for a year. If anything goes wrong, or Hamish is negatively affected by it, then we will take him straight out" I relent, sighing.

"Really? You'll agree?"

"Under those circumstances, and that I get to pick the school, then yes. Also on the principle that you'll owe me big for this" I say, fully intending to take Hamish out of the school within a week.

"Ah" he moves over and wraps his arms around his neck "Thank you. This will work out, I know it will" I nod, agreeing that he could make it better in another place, but not here. And that it was hard for me to agree to this at all. "If they let you" I say, pulling him onto me on the sofa.

"It'll work out, this is best for him"

"It will have to be" he kisses me, a way of thanks,

"And it's only a few weeks now, so we'll have to be quick" he mumbles, obviously not focusing on the point, which was probably due to the short kisses I was now laying on his neck.

"Mrs Hudson will be back soon, she's only taken him shopping." He says pulling away. "Sherlock…" He groans, and definitely relents his earlier point, then checks his watch "Okay, so we have a lot longer than I thought, you gave in quicker than I'd expected"

"That was not giving in" I say, pushing him down on the sofa

* * *

"Uniform, Hai" John says, prompting Hamish to the next shop. He'd been staring into the window of the Early Learning Centre.

Unlike most schools, the one we had chosen, King Edwards, required those children in nursery to wear the same uniform as the rest of the school. Which is why we here today, rather than buying it at the school, I had thought it would be best to get him fitted for the clothes, then get just get a larger set whenever he grew. "Ah, Sherlock. Very good, very good. And Doctor Watson" Franko, the tailor here, never seems to call John by his first name, the few times I've gotten him, preferring his title. "Good Morning, I believe we sent you the uniform to be made up?"

"Yes Sir, yes. "John says a brief hello "And this is little Hamish" he puts his hand out for Hamish to shake, put Hamish looks at it, worried at the prospect of being touched by a stranger. Franko just smiles and steps away "You, husband and son. You're very different now, very good" Franko says and goes to the back room for our order. When he comes back out, he goes immediately to Hamish "Little man, hello. Up here, please" Hamish attempts to climb onto the lifted platform, and seeing that he can't get up, Franko moves to lift him but Hamish immediately backs away and John moves to lift him, "Nothing personal, he just doesn't know you" John says, backing away, his tone thankfully unapologetic. Franko nods

"So you're going to school?" He asks, wrapping the tape measure around Hamish's waist

"Learn" Hamish explains.

"Of course, of course" Franko indicates for John to lift Hamish to a table and measures his legs "You will do well, you dads a doctor and genius, they're very smart. You will"

John laughs "Thank you, but I'm nowhere near as intelligent as Sherlock"

"Surgeon, very smart. You're smart in different way"  
"Well I guess, I do seem to know more than him on certain subjects, but then again he could if he hadn't declared them unimportant" John explains, as I watch Hamish. He isn't squirming away from Franko's touch as much as before.

"It's not my fault if the things you invest your time in are completely unnecessary" I tell him, moving to Hamish's other side as he starts to stomp around in impatience and boredom "Just another minute, then we can go look in the toy shop. You have the money you we're given for your birthday" I say, and he grabs at my hand

"Stay here"

"Of course. We need to pay when you're done, so be good and stay still okay?"Hamish nods and stands still, and John carries on with the conversation

"Yes, I know love. You needn't be defensive"

"I wasn't" I say as Franko finished and Hamish jumps from the table into my arms  
"Not with me, no. Just that I didn't mean anything negative, other people would see it that way"  
John goes to pay "We'll send it to your house in two days, Doctor" Franko says and John smiles, a little sadly.

"Hamish, all ready for school in his uniform" John says as we walk out of the store and Hamish runs into the shop next door.

"You are not getting sentimental yet" I tell him, knowing the wistful look in his eyes. John laughs "I wasn't, not really. I was thinking more about how bored you'll be when he's at school and I'm working."

"He doesn't do full days until next year, and even without cases, I'm sure I'll find a way to amuse myself. And I can just rearrange your shifts again"

Hamish runs back up to us with a small whiteboard set. "Wait…so the other month, when all my shifts were suddenly earlier, that was because you get more bored in the afternoons?" He asks, taking the bored from Hamish and looking to the display and asking if he definitely wanted that. "Well yes, mornings can prove interesting, and Hamish was still sleeping in the afternoons" I finish and John hits my arm.

"Not that I was that bothered, but I ended up complaining to them about that, they'll have thought I was mad. Supposing you used my email to ask, that is" he says, taking the whiteboard and Hamish's hand and paying.  
"Yes. You really need to think of a better password."  
"I don't care if you see my emails, or use it, as long as you ask" he says, letting Hamish take the carrier-which is immediately dragged along the floor. "Still. It would take the deductive skills of a chimpanzee to figure it out"

"Thanks" John says, rolling his eyes. "Home now, Hai" he adds as Hamish runs to the escalators.

* * *

"It's today" John whispers in my ear, as if he didn't know I was already awake.

"I know. And you're already getting upset and dreamy. It's only nursery, hardly proper school" I say, turning over in bed and watching him get up. "Well, I'll be even more over- sentimental then. It's still something now. Get up" he pulls the cover from me and I hit him with the pillow.

"I know. I'll miss him while he's there"

"There we go" John smiles "I knew you'd be the same when you really thought about Hamish being at school."

"Shut up. I'm no where near as bad as you" he raises his eyebrows and I hit him with the pillow again. "I wasn't" he laughs and pulls me out of bed to get dressed. "We should wake him together, make sure he's calm and happy before he goes in."

"Why wouldn't he be happy? He's only seemed to excited about school so far"  
By now, John's fully dressed and stood waiting for me, watching. I slow the process of getting undressed down, making sure he watches every movement "He'll be fine when he gets in there, it's just us leaving him. You know he hates that" he says, looking up after a moment "And will you stop that? We have to get Hai dressed, he needs to eat and we have to get a cab over there, no time for your games now."

"Wasn't a game. I was getting dressed. I can't help it if you can't take your eyes off me."

"You know full well you weren't just getting undressed, you teasing git" he says, then leaves the room, "Hurry up, you said you to talk to him while I get breakfast today" he shouts through the door.  
I follow him upstairs, fastening my shirt as I walk. "You're awake….and dressed" I walk in and Hamish is on the floor with his school bag, his shirt unfastened and trousers unzipped, both things he struggles with.(The school makes them wear blazers, which made John laugh, saying that he hadn't worn one until he was at least 20, and that with the small shirt too, Hamish's uniform looked like my own clothes. Hamish's uniform was in a dark blue, the school's emblem emblazed on the pocket.)

"Hi! School" Hamish says, jumping up.

"Exactly. You should have come down to us"

"Getting books, then I go" Hamish explains as John kneels down to refasten his shirt.

"You got dressed yourself too. We just need to sort these out, then breakfast and we can set off" John says.

"Now" Hamish picks up his bag and walks to the door.

John goes downstairs and starts making porridge on the stove and Hamish gets his shoes, trying to fasten them himself (god knows who decided to make three year olds wear lace black patent leather lace ups) .

"Come on then. We'll talk while Dad makes breakfast" I lead Hamish down the stairs, taking his hand and making sure he holds onto the banister too.

We sit at the table, or the clean section of the table to be more accurate and I lift Hamish to the chair opposite me. "Hamish, when you're at school, a lot of the other children won't be able to do as much as you can"

"What?" I look to John, who's stirring the pan at the cooker and he's still, listening and debating whether to sit down and leave the porridge for a while.

"Well, counting. You can go to one hundred, count in tens and hundreds, and the others, presumably, will be able to count up to twenty. So you'll have to be really good when they're learning about that"

"I help" Hamish says, taking his orange juice from John. At this, John grins and kisses Hamish's hair.

"They'll all be very frustrating " I explain, but Hamish doesn't seem to be bothered by this, just nodding and drinking more. "And they won't be able to write anything, like you can do the letters almost, they'll be learning about that every day."

"Dull?"

"Most likely. So you'll have to cope with that, but we've informed the teachers of your stage, so they might give you work more suited to your ability. But sometimes you'll have to just sit quietly while the other students learn. However, that'll only make up an hour of your day and the rest you'll be able to do what you want"

"Friends?" John puts Hamish's porridge in front of him, instructing him to let it cool.

"You'll make lots" John tells him, adding juice and an apple to Hamish's school bag. "Eat your apple in the morning, when they tell you it's snack time, okay?"

"You said" Hamish tells him, and I laugh.

"See? Even Hamish notices when you repeat yourself all the time."

"It's reassurance. Eat up, Hai you'll be busy today" Hamish is only stirring his porridge, looking disgruntled.

"Because you didn't put syrup on it. It's bland and disgusting without" I take the syrup tin out of the fridge and spoon a little into Hamish's bowl.

"Enough. It's pure sugar, bad for his teeth"

"It's fine, he'll lose those teeth anyway"

"Great philosophy" John takes the spoon as I go to add more.

"Dada" Hamish moans, but eats anyway.

"He's eating now, so that's better" I tell him and he sits down to eat.

"Fine, he eats pretty healthily anyway" John says. They finish their food and I phone for a cab, making sure be late due to not being able to flag one down.

"Wait there, Hai" John says as Hamish moves to get his coat while we wait for the cab. John comes back in the room and tells Hamish to stand straight, then takes a lot of pictures, one isn't enough for some reason.

"This is really more like your first day of school, Hai. You look so smart" John bends down to hug him and Hamish looks slightly confused.

"He's being sentimental Hai." I explain and John straightens up, helping Hamish with his coat then taking him downstairs as the cab honks outside.

Hamish's school is a fifteen minute ride away, but it takes almost twenty five due to London's traffic.

We pull up there, and Hamish, who has been chatting animatedly and asking more and more questions the whole ride, goes quiet.

John pays the driver and opens Hamish's door. "You okay?"

"Big" Hamish takes his hand, moving closer to him

"You saw it last week, on the tour" Hamish moves back as two of the older students run past, pressing into John.

"You're fine Hamish, you liked the teacher." I say. The teacher was good here, she'd taken the job after her own nanny business collapsed, so she had a strict nature but was very good with all lessons, she'd even taught in Africa as a missionary, though she'd been initially forced into that by Christian parents, the skills had severed her well. Her current relationship was stable, and her age and the way she'd been dressed indicated that it was very happy, and the problems with her brother but still sweet demure meant the her some life wouldn't affect her work, all the skills she would need.

"Fun" Hamish perks up again, seeing the nursery building, separate from the rest of the school and the other children his age walking in.

"Good boy. You'll have a great day" he hands Hamish his backpack and as we get up to the door, the second teacher, a plump and lonely woman whose job was the most enjoyable part of her life, greets us.

"Hello Hamish. You have a hook for your coat, with your name on and sticker, and there is a hall with the bags in." she explains . Hamish looks up at her, but grabs the edge of my coat as well as John's hand. The teacher then turns to John and I "You're okay to settle him in, get his things sorted, then we asks that parents leave. Better for the child to transition of there isn't a long goodbye"

John nods, but his spare hand grips Hamish's shoulder. "Find your name then Hai" I make sure that Hamish is focused and distracted. I notice that all the other children's hooks are being found by their parents, meaning I was right about their skills being behind Hamish's.

"There" Hamish points, then waits for another child to move out of the way.

"Well done" I say, while John surveys the other children. Hamish seems to be looking around too, his eyes darting over every child that passes. After taking the coat off and depositing his bag, Hamish is still hanging onto both John and I.

"Hamish look, there's a computer. You can play on that" John says, sitting Hamish down next to a blonde girl at the next screen.

"Okay. You play too"

"No, we have to go. This is nursery. Me and Father have to go while you learn and make your friends. We'll be back at 12, when the big hand and little hand are at the top" John points to the clock and Hamish nods.

"Stay 'til then"

"You'll have a good day Hamish. You won't want us two interfering." Hamish turns in his chair, then jumps off and hugs me.

"How long?"

"A few hours. We'll be right at the door" Hamish moves away from my arms, and hugs John, seeming to know more about how he needs to behave than the other children, who are either already playing or clinging onto their parents.

"Have a fantastic day" John stands up, then we walk to the door, Hamish following us and waving. "See you soon"

"Bye Hamish"

"Bye bye" Hamish says, then turns as a boy asks him something.

"Oh god, Sherlock. That was hard" John says, squeezing my hand after shutting the door.

"He seemed to be okay though, at the end"

"Yeah, he'll be fine. I felt so bad, leaving him when he was waving like that"

"Come here" I hug him "He's growing up." I sigh, bending slightly and burying my face against his shoulder. "I want him to stay at this age."

"You're the one getting sentimental now." John smiles, pulling away.

"I know. That was totally irrational, I hate saying things like that but it's right"

"Oh Sherlock" John pulls me to him again, and we sit on a bench just outside the schools gate. "He'll be fine. We know that, we're both being overemotional old fools"

"Not old" I mumble and John laughs a little.

"We'll go get him a present" John stands up, holding out his hand "For his first day" we get up, and look for a cab.

"And you say I spoil him"

John's phone rings in his pocket, and he gives me a panicked look. We were in the bike isle of the shop, thinking about Hamish's next birthday and we had both immediately thought of Hamish's school.

"Hello? John's face drops, and he signals for me to put what we'd already bought down and I follow him out of the door "And you've told him it will only be an hour and a half?" he mouths at me "Cab" and I step out to the road get one. "We'll be right there. 10 minutes tops"

"What is it?" I ask, I can tell it's Hamish, and we have to go get him form John's panic at the callers introduction.

"Hamish, he won't stop crying. Is asking for us, they normally wouldn't do this on the first day, but he's been upset for over an hour"

"And they didn't call us earlier?" the cab stops at a red light "That can't be right"

"They have to be like that. But I'm worried now" I take John's hand over the middle seat, and we both sit still, minds on the same thing.

"Why won't these cars move?" John grumbles, he's usually more patient than this, but he can't be right now.

"Almost there now" the cabbie tells him, and John opens the door.

"I know. We'll walk the rest of the way. Pay him, Sherlock" John walks over to the rad and I pass the startled cab driver a note and follow him,

John's almost running now, and I catch up to him "Stupid traffic. We'll make better time walking"

"Yes. Only around the corner" We come up to the building, and can see the nursery building, and at the gate, Hamish's small figure clinging onto the metal, a teacher behind him,

"Hamish!" John shouts to him, then runs up the short drive, lifting a snivelling Hamish over the gate. "It's okay." I lean over, hugging Hamish with him, lifting his face "We're here now. You're okay"

Hamish buries his face in John's shoulder, still crying and I turn to the teacher "And why did you let him get into this state? Just because you can't find love or have your own kids, it doesn't mean you can separate children from their parents"

"Sherlock that's not…." John warns, but Hamish looks up then reaches over to me.

"Hello. What is it?" I ask as Hamish settles himself in my arms. He doesn't answer, so I continue with the teacher. "You should have called before. We could have calmed him down over the phone. Now he's worked up"

"I didn't…it wouldn't have been good for him.." the teacher mumbles, and I lift Hamish's face from my shoulder, kiss his forehead and hug him tighter.

"Look." John starts, stepping forward "We want Hamish to get the best education, and therefore the best care. I don't think that this is the right care, you should have called, texted even and informed us. Even 20 minutes is a long time to cry, and Hamish is hardly ever upset."

"That isn't our policy-"

"Well make it your policy" I say, voice a little too loud, Hamish flinches. "Sorry Hamish"

"There were a lot of other kids…"

"Your class is small compared to most. We can take him elsewhere"

"No no…we'll fix it. Don't want to disturb him."

"Good" I say, and turn away from her, taking a few steps. Hamish goes back to John's arms, obviously wanting to keep to us both at the same time.

"Hamish, what happened?" John says quietly, making sure the woman won't hear. "You were fine when we left, what upset you?"

"I miss you" Hamish says, grabbing my arm.

"We missed you too, but you need to be at school. You were fine before you started feeling sad weren't you?"

"Yes. Friend" Hamish says, rubbing his nose. John gets a tissue from his pocket and passes him it.

"You made a friend already? Well done, Hai. That's great!" John says enthusiastically.

"Yes" Hamish's tears have stopped now, smiling a little.

"Good. Do you think you would be okay to go play then?" John asks.

"No. I want you there" Hamish says, hugging into John again

"You need to be at school. It's not long. If you need us, tell the teacher and she'll phone and we can talk" I say, loud enough for the woman to hear, she nods.

"Do you think you can stay the rest of the day? Only an hour" John asks when Hamish lifts his head again.

"Okay" Hamish puts his arms as much as they reach around John then comes back to me and does the same.

"Good, well done Hai. You're brave" John smiles and puts him down.

"Go in then. We'll be back soon. We'll have something for you then" I put him behind the gate and he, looking extremely sweet takes each of our hands.

"Now! " Hamish orders and I grin.

"When we come to get you" I tell him and he jumps at the gate.

"Bye Hai, see you very soon" John says, kissing Hamish's cheek.

"Love you." I tell him, John's usual line when he leaves for work "Bye"

"Bye" Hamish shouts and waves. As soon as we're out of his earshot, John begins

"He'll be fine now, won't he?" John worries, biting a nail.

"I think so. I just think he worked himself up a lot, didn't know when we were coming back. He didn't understand as fully as we thought"

"I guess" John takes my hand, and we walk back towards the high street.

"It's not long, like we told him. Why don't we have a coffee at that little café you love so much, get Hai a cake and then buy him that book we saw earlier?"

"Yeah. Good idea" John says, getting into a pulled up cab, still looking towards the school.

"We'll be back before he realises." I say, and John turns.

"I know he'll be fine now but….."

"You're worrying even more? Yeah. I don't what to go at all"

We talk little over the coffee, both watching the clock, we go get Hamish's book and head for the school early.

"We'll be stood there for ages but…"

"I know, we'll be in to help him get everything first." I stand loser to him, hugging him from behind. The clock on my phone seemed to be stuck, and then the other parents started turning up, all behind us in the queue for the door. The teacher appears then, even though the bell hasn't started, looking haggard.

"Come in, you can get them, now" Hamish is at the front of the, group, holding a picture out to his side. He rushes to John and I, the fact that we were walking but still cuddled together making him able to grab onto us both.

"Hey" John lifts him up, the picture hitting his arm, splattering his jacket with paint "Was the rest of your day good, munchkin?" John asks, recently he'd started calling Hamish pet names, and this one was apparently associated with some characters from 'Aus' (a movie on Australia I'm guessing) who sing and dance.

"Mhm" Hamish says, then lists his paper, leaning over to me as he always does when we see him again. Though he almost always goes to John first.

"What have you painted?" I ask, and John gets out a tissue for his shoulder.

"Everything" Hamish laughs and tells us about the picture. The rest of his day was a lot better, and he says that he's excited about the next day. Knowing he can contact is at any moment seems to have settled his mind.


	34. Museum

**_AN:_ **_Inspired by an idea from_ Lunabell Muarder Knite ,_months ago (wow, I didn't even realise how long I've been writing this for). And the fact that my friends and I went on a day trip and ended up going to a museum- like most normal 15 year olds. That's why it's in York, because I haven't been to museum in London so I thought I rather have this accurate. If you like this, I could carry on and do their second day in York..._

* * *

"Museum?" Hamish asks carefully, stretching the word out.

"M_use_um. Not Moo. Yes, you've been when you were younger, you just won't remember" John says, lifting Hamish from the train.

"It wasn't this platform…I'm going to the next one" I say to John and he nods. We're here, in York, for a case though I only need this for one fact check, just so I can look at this station and the case will be done. Which is why Hamish is with us, so we can have a day out (maybe more, depending on whether the evidence is there and if we've done everything we intend to while we're here) and possibly go on one of the boat trips down the river as well as the museums.

The platform provides the evidence I expected it to, and I call the Yard who will apparently send some officers from their Yorkshire branch to come. John and Hamish are waiting in a small café in the station though I can see that the queues long and they haven't sat down yet, and I don't want to make them stay there much longer, so I leave a note on a Dictaphone I keep and hand it to a member of staff and tell him to give it to the police. Thinking about it, that probably sounded like a terrorist threat, but it won't affect our travel as we won't be back until latter and no one stopped me walking away so it's all fine.

"Hi, love. All solved?" John asks, taking Hamish's; hands away from the cakes on the countertop.

"Of course. Get me some shortbread, please"

"You haven't had a proper meal in days, if you're hungry have a sandwich or something" John asks for a drinks and Hamish's apple, and turns to me when the cashier asks if there's anything more we want.

"Fine, get me a sandwich" I say and take Hamish's hand and the drinks to a table.

John speaks to the woman and comes to sit down "So how are we fitting everything in? I want to go down the river, we can row our own boat you know"

"I know. It depends what Hai thinks about the water, we'll do the museum first, then the castle-they're right across from each other" I say, having looked at a large map in passing to the café.

"What about going down to the river? What about lunch? We're not going to fit all this in."

"We'll find somewhere to stay overnight then, depending on Hamish" I say, and Hamish moves from his chair onto my knee. "You better be energetic today, Hai, we're going to be walking a lot"

"Yes" Hamish says, leaning over and delving into my coat pocket, looking for my phone to play on, I hand him it and put on a reading game. He'd come home from nursery on his third day, already complaining about being bored and the other children knowing nothing. So after ringing in, the school provided him with games such as the ones he was playing now to use quietly as the other children did the work. He seemed to have been feeling better at nursery compared to his first day, and the lessons he also gets form a tutor in the school, it seems to be very good for him and his enjoyment of it has increased, so he's still clingy before he leaves on a morning.

"Right. I looked at the hotels around here and there's one near the station so I'll book into that when we walk past for the castle"

"Queen?" Hamish asks, thinking of the water.

"Not that castle. That's back home, you're going there with school next month"

Hamish smiles and my food appears, and Hamish starts eating his fruit. John watches me eat, instructing me to eat the whole thing rather than leaving the crust, I take full advantage of this and he kicks me under the table.

"How do you manage to make eating a bacon sarnie look sexy?" he says, making sure Hamish doesn't hear.

I ignore the comment and finish eating "That make you happy?"

"Do you feel full now?"

"Yes John"

"Good, then we can go" he takes the phone from Hamish who groans and latches onto my hand.

"What's that for?" Hamish asks, pointing to the wall on the hill just a few minutes form the station.

"The Romans built it in 122 A.D. to keep the Scots from invading, though they themselves had invaded York, or Eboracum as they called it" I explain

"Oh" Hamish says, staring up at the wall. "Can we go there?"

"Why do you know so much history, I mean I didn't know the Ebor-whatever it was, yet I had to explain Homer Simpson was the other day? You've even been there when it's been on"

"Eboracum. Deleted it. History can be useful."

John shakes his head and takes Hamish's other hand, and we swig him in between us, lifting him slightly from the pavement. John stops and goes inside a hotel, Hamish and I waiting outside while he sorts things out. He comes back, room key in his hand "We don't have any clothes or toothbrushes or anything, I'll have to into some shops and get a few things. I looked at the hotels just in case, should've thought about clothes"

"It's fine. I don't care"

"Still." He stops "Which way now?"

"We walk through the centre then we come out past the Minster, walk up another street and we're there"

"How do you know that?"

"I walked past a map on the way from the platform."

"And you memorised it that quickly? God, Sherlock-I'll never run out of reasons to tell you about it apparently-you're amazing"

I lean down to kiss him and we pass from the pavement onto cobbles. Hamish starts to stamp his feet on these, confused by the different sensation and the fact he could feel each section under his shoes. "Careful. It's easy to trip on these"

"I like it" Hamish says, dragging a foot along a stone.

"Good, but come on now, we have a lot to do" I tell him, pulling him forward. He walks but still stares at the street, looking up, disappointed, when the cobbles run out again.

"Can we make them at home?"

"Cobbles? No Hai, they're not good for cars"

"At home" Hamish looks over his shoulder at the older, smaller section of York's main street over his shoulder.

"Oh, in our house." John says, then lifts Hamish up as the street gets busier, afraid of people knocking him over. "No, that's too hard and we couldn't play on the floor anymore, it would be too cold"

"Though it would be a good experiment to have a section of the floor cobbled, we could test-"

John interrupts me "No, it's not practical" John says, ending the discussion. "Look Hai, there's the Minster"

In front of is York's famous cathedral and Hamish stops as soon as we get closer, tilting his head right back to look to the top of the tower.

"You know, cathedrals are good for murders, hide the body in the crypt and it's almost undetectable to the police, unless they have me"

"You know, most people say something about it being iconic or beautiful." John says when we get a few looks form passers-by.

Hamish is bored by then, and attempts to climb down form John's arms. "Hold on tight to my hand then" John says and we walk off again.

Before the museum, we have to walk past the castle itself. "Woah. That's a bit steep" John mumbles "Must be hundreds of stairs"

"Of course it is, that's how they used to build them." I say and Hamish stops looking at the castle and sees the museum, which has a small entrance that we have to queue up at "You'll love this, Hai. The site says that they have people in period costume and everything"

"It's basically the history of Yorkshire, but it documents the rest of Britain too" I explain, after seeing a sign at the entrance.

Hamish looks more excited at the first point, and as we get to the front he sees the gift shop and runs for it. I leave John in the queue to follow him.

"No Hamish. Stay with us." I bend down to his level "We'll be going straight home if you don't, and that won't be any fun"

"No" Hamish moans, elongating the sound of the 'o'.

"Be good then. Hold onto Dad or I the whole time"

"I will" he promises, then turns and jumps up at me.

"Oh, too tired to walk already? We have a long way to walk, and up the castle"

"Hug" he gets down again and we walk to the museum's start. I come back to John, who has the tickets-which are actually a single receipt-in his hand.

"We'll start then"

I follow him around, the first few rooms show us into other rooms, each designed for different eras. There's a window to a fake street at the edge, and Hamish wants to go down there immediately. He leaves this though, and goes back to the first room and tries to jump over the small wooden wall there-apparently the usual velvet ropes weren't enough to keep people out.

"Bored"

"Sherlock, it's a museum, go read something"

"I did"

"You two are going to be rushing around everywhere while I just want to stroll through, aren't you?"

"Yes" Hamish and I say together and John rolls his eyes.

We rush through the next part of the museum, going downstairs to the 'Street' section. Now, this was much better. There were people fully dressed in clothes appropriate to the time that the street was set for. In the middle of the street, there was a dummy of a horse and cart. Hamish immediately went over and tried to stroke the fake creature.

"No Hai" John guides his hand away and a woman comes up behind us. "Hello, is there anything you'd like to know about the museum"

"We're perfectly capable of-" I start, but Hamish moves forward, staring at her clothes

"What's your dress?"

"Ah, it's what be appropriate for a dress make from the-" she goes on and I walk off, bored by her.

"Sherlock don't be rude" John shouts over, the woman still talking to Hamish.

"I wasn't, I didn't say anything"

"It's rude to walk away like that" John hisses, pulling my back and saying this close to my ear.

"You'd rather I insult her?"

"No, just stand quietly and bear it" John says, the woman spinning g for Hamish, showing off the skirts under her dress. Hamish laughs and looks pleased.

There are other little shops to go into on the street, a toymakers, which fascinates Hamish, especially the doll's house, a dressmakers-where the woman we'd spoken to had appeared from, then a sweet shop where John buys a few sugar mice.

"You can try one when we get back tonight" he informs Hamish when he asks for one. We walk out of the street through and old fashioned chemist

"It smells"

"That's for authenticity" John explains.

"Int'esting" Hamish answers.

"You sound like an old man, Hai"

Hamish laughs and bends down to pick up a penny from the floor. "That's lucky"

The next section of the museum is a lot more interesting, this has the castle prisons, with voices and projections.

"I don't like it" Hamish reaches up to John who lifts him and walks out.

"If you wanna look around more, that's fine love. I'll wait with Hai outside"

"It's fine, I've looked. I liked that part best" I say, walking out of the cell and down the hallway after them.

The rest of the museum is about more recent years and not as interesting as the prison cells, though John likes the 60s section.


	35. Boats

John moves in the bed, taking the duvet with him. The cold air hits my skin and I roll over, putting my arms around him and hugging. "Sherlock" John turns his head to plant a kiss on my cheek "I was just getting up" John snuggles back into me however, and we lay, talking quietly as it gets light.

The hotel wasn't actually that but a Bed and Breakfast. Which meant John was making us go downstairs early in the morning to sit in a small room with a lot of other people to eat. People who would probably want to pass polite conversation

"Can't we eat somewhere else? We could have something else…it's a holiday, technically. We could have doughnuts or something sweet like that." I ask.

"No. We've paid for this and it will be perfectly fine. I heard a lot of people coming in really late last night, so it isn't likely they'll all be downstairs"

By now, even though we were still whispering, Hamish had awoken. He got down from his bed, and jumped onto the middle of ours "Boat" he got to his feet and began jumping, then John sat up and caught his arm.

"Careful Hai, this isn't our bed. You might bust the springs"

"You weren't worried about that when we were away in Italy. I'm pretty sure that the way you were" John cuts me off with a glare

"Shut it. You are not talking about that in front of Hai. How many times am I going to have to say that?"

"It's not like he'll _understand._ I should be able to discuss anything. He should know everything, at some point, I don't want to deprive him of knowledge"

"Not explaining our sex life to him at the age of three is not depriving him of knowledge. It's keeping him innocent"

Hamish stops jumping, the slightly lowered tone of John's voice having intrigued him "What's sex?"

"When two people are really-"

"Sherlock, no. Nothing Hai, come one let's get to breakfast"

"He asked. Hamish, when two people feel-" John picks Hamish-who was still wearing his pyjamas-up, they walk out of the room. Hmmm, maybe there's some scale of what Hamish should be when I can tell him things that I deleted. I'll have to look that up.

John and Hamish come back to the room as the kettle boils "Tea?"

"I just drank some, thanks" John says, going to the bag from the bottom of the bed. Last night he'd bought Hamish the pyjamas, toothbrushes and a change of clothes for each of us. At that time, I had taken Hamish back to sleep, he'd been tired since lunch barely even looking around the castle after the long walk up there.

I finish my own drink then dress and we walk downstairs, Hamish skipping a little. "Hamish, come here" I say then bend to hug him as he comes over.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to hug you" John grins, and I can tell that he's refraining from a comment containing the words 'sweet' or adorable' or just getting a camera out of the backpack he bought to put our old clothes in.

"So, are we going on the actual trip along the river, with the tour guide, or getting out own little boat?"

"Have you rowed before?"

"A little. And you're good, we'll be fine" I knew that the Cambridge rowing would come of use someday, rather than just pure exercise and the calm of the water. Actually, once it had been useful on a particularly interesting case (floating bodies, dredged rivers, a chase on a canal)

"Both. Both are good. And we have time"

"Alright. I just hope Hamish doesn't get sick"

"Unlikely." We're outside now and Hamish takes my hand "Good" I whisper, and begin to tell him about the chemical reaction of baking soda and coke, something I'd done for his amusement just before the case started and never got a chance to explain. He wasn't likely to understand it, but he always listened intently if I told him about an experiment.

"I'm going to teach you about how I find the criminals the Yard can't, one day"

"Notice" Hamish says, obviously used to my explanations "Yard dumb." John laughs

"You're right Hai."

"Don't let Uncle Greg hear you say that" John says, still laughing.

"No. I tell him. I don't like when they take you and Fa"

"They don't take us. We go to work, they need us" I explain and John picks Hamish up.

"But they're mean"

"I know. We can't do anything about that though. When you're older, you can be a police officer. Tell them how to behave, alright?" John says and kisses Hamish's cheek.

"And then they'll at least have one person on the whole of England's force with a little intelligence"

"Lot, actually." John smiles, "But not all of them are that stupid. They solve some crimes"

We're near the river now, and walk around the bridge and down a side street, which will take us to the dock.

"Incredibly simplistic ones"

A short, old man who used to have a career in drug dealing greets us we walk up and tells us that the next scheduled trip will be at 11am, meaning we have to wait around for half an hour.

"John" I moan "What do we do for thirty minutes?"

"I don't know. I'm going further down and looking at the barges with Hai, you'll be bored. Entertain yourself"

"Boring"

"Okay, we both know you're incapable of that. Come with us, you can tell us exactly who lives on each of the houseboats over there" he points to another section of the river further down.

"That's easy"

"You don't do it this way around much, you usually get the person first. It'll be better than doing nothing" I get up from the low bench I'd slumped against when we came away from the wooden platform .

The barges along the river are pretty boring, and they were mostly what you'd expect, old 'lover of the sea' types, those that don't like staying in one place. All the same, so tedious after the first, but I begin teaching Hamish things, and by the fifth boat he could tell whether an owner was male or female and how long they'd been travelling for.

By then, it was time to talk back and board the boat for the trip down the river. Hamish, of course wanted to go upstairs. The boat had an open top and two rows of seats so we sat near the front (Hamish already starting to play as if he was driving the boat).

We were made to wait for the rest of the passengers and the boat began to fill up, thankfully the chair next to me was left empty so I moved over to the middle and leant over John's shoulder. Hamish started laughing when the boat set off, trying to get up. "No Hai, stay here. It's not safe" John pulled Hamish over to his lap, seen as he wouldn't stay still. "I want to see"

"See what? There's a lovely view of the town from here"

The woman that had been in front of Hamish started speaking, giving us the history of York. Hamish wasn't listening at all, still struggling on John's knee. "See sea"

"It's a river, but it does lead to the sea. Anyway, I'll move over and if you stand on me, carefully, then you can peer over the side" John says and Hamish sits down and he moves.

"Wrong" The woman at the front had stated that the current population of York was just over 300,000 making it a small city in comparison to other places, even though it used to be one of the most populated places in the country as well as one of the most historical (Romans, Vikings, the War of the Roses-and the fact Guy Fawkes was born there).

"Sorry Sir?" the woman dipped her head, smiling politely.

"You weren't accurate. The current population of York is- rounded to the nearest hundred- 202, 400"

"I have the figures here, sir. Sorry but that must be correct" Power complex. Overbearing mother. Abandonment issues due to father.

"It isn't"

"Well, uhm" she takes a sheet from the seat behind her "Look at thi-" she scans the paper, brushing down it with her finger, she rests it, re reading ,then colours and turns back to the rest of the passengers "And here, we have-"

"I was right, wasn't I? And you just don't want to admit it"

"Sir, I don't have time for this, I need to get on with the talk. Sorry"

John looks annoyed at her, but gives me a look telling me to stay quiet for the rest of the trip. Hamish is still looking over the side of the boat, at the water so I begin to describe the boat's mechanism, and why it creates its own waves. "I drive it?"

Hamish sits back down on John's lap as I finish "When you're older, bud. If you want to"

What? Hamish would hate that. He'd be bored stiff, oh god this isn't the 'Encourage Your Child's Dream?' stuff I read about is it? We're no longer in the city now, seemingly just on the outskirts. There are fields around and it seems extremely quiet, even quieter than the city itself, which makes barely a whisper compared to London's screaming.

"No, Hamish. You can do it briefly, learn to. But never full time or as a career"

"Sherlock" John warns "Don't tell him things like that. He can do what he wants"

"I like boats" Hamish puts in, then turns to look around at the rest of the river.

"Of course he can. Within reason. He needs to do something that will be good for him, constantly keep his attention."

"I don't know, he might like the quiet life, socialising whatever"

Hamish is getting up again, going to the very front to look over the side. John catches his arm. "Stay here, Hai" Hamish frowns then gets onto the plastic chair and sulks.

"He won't. He'd be bored. And that isn't good for him. It can do terrible things to people. Genius and boredom."

Hamish hadn't been confirmed for genius levels. But at his school, the teachers had been making comments on how fast he learned and how advanced he was, and they were currently asking us to put him through certain tests. Things that he would make him properly work, and then they'd be able to teach him better, possibly even get someone new in to help him more.

John sighs "I know, he wouldn't go through with it. But he's three. We need to just be encouraging"

Hamish shifts in his seat, annoyed that he isn't getting any attention. "Yes, Hamish we know you want to look over. But we can't. Wait 'til we get on the small boat." Hamish stares at him but just pouts. "Don't sulk like that. We brought you here especially to have a good day. C'mon" John says and Hamish turns away from him.

"But it isn't right. It's like lying. We don't think he'll do that or want him to do these things"

"We'll want him to do whatever makes him happy. Even if it isn't right, as long as he likes it"

"What if he ends up hating it though?" I say, John really doesn't seem to be getting the concept of how bad doing something menial could be for Hamish.

"We have to let him, Sherlock. He's three, let's leave this subject for fifteen years or so when he's actually thinking about a job"

"Fine" I turn to Hamish, who's still pretending to sulk but playing with his shoes (light up things, a new pair, they have a very interesting mechanism). "Hamish, look we're nearly back. Can you see the Minster again?" We're just coming back around, underneath the bridge and the woman has finally sat down and stopped talking.

Hamish looks up and smiles a little, forgetting his upset already "Yes. Little boat now?"

"Uh huh" John says as the boat comes into the dock, aligning with the platform. People downstairs begin to get off and John picks Hamish up to get down the narrow staircase.

There's the man who sold us the tickets at the door, he's the heard of the trips so inform him of the woman's blunder. He thanks me but I see that he won't make the changes (obviously why he hasn't moved out of his parents yet, even though he's thirty five) I mention this to John and he laughs but tells me to keep my voice down.

Hamish slips down from John's arms and runs in front, then John slips an arm around me. "You didn't even complain about being bored once, even though I could see it the whole trip. You're getting a lot better."

"I wasn't too bored. I corrected the guide in my head, and one of the women on the boat had a brief spell in prison for multiple arson attacks. It was nice figuring out the circumstances of each. Hamish come back" I say and John kisses me briefly.

"The boats are the other way" John says when Hamish comes back.

"Oh. I drive?"

"You don't drive these boats, can you see that one on the river there?" I say and bend to Hamish's level to point. "It's those kind. Dad and I will row them"

"I want to" Hamish says as we get to the rest of the boats, which had been around the slight bend in the river and were all tied up in a row.

"Hi. Can we take a boat?" John asks the old man sat in a canvas chair.

The man gets up and gives him the price then goes the cupboard behind, getting life jackets. These boats weren't from the main station but from one further down. John and I had agreed that these were better than the motor powered ones.

"Do we have to put them on?" I say as I fasten Hamish's jacket.

"It's the rules. We don't need them, but yes. Don't moan" John says and climbs into the boat, jacket already on.

I hand Hamish over and sigh then fasten the bright orange inflatable jacket. "This isn't comfortable" I mutter and hand Hamish to John when he's sat down.

"No complaining." John reinstates and sits Hamish next to him, instructing him not to stand up under and circumstance.

I step into the boat, going to the opposite side and putting the bag underneath the seat. John hands me one of the oars and we row out from the dock, the owner waving us off. Hamish starts grinning, obviously feeling the swaying of the boat and enjoying it. We row down the river, the opposite to where we'd gone in the boat and get a more shady, scheduled area. It's freezing out of the sun but we get out of the boat and onto the bank anyway, John tying the boat rope to a tree stump.

"Fa?" Hamish asks when I lift pass him to John on the grassy bank.

"Yes?" I get off of the boat and he grabs at my hand, I can't help smiling at him.

"Can we go home now?"

"I thought you liked it here" I say as we follow John up the hill.

"Nice. But I like home. I want my toys and teddy and see Grandma" John smiles, Mrs Hudson still seems to get emotional when he called her that, even though he does it all the time. Whatever sense that made, it was sweet but she needn't be emotional, there was really no other way Hamish could have addressed her.

"We'll go soon. We'll take the boat back, then we'll get on the train"

"Okay." Hamish says then John points out a squirrel in the undergrowth and gets excited. Due to the cold, we don't stay on the bank for long and get back in the boat. This time, I pass John the bag over and sit Hamish on my knee. We row off from the bank and I guide Hamish's hand to the oar and he 'helps' me row.

We row faster on the way back due to the darkening sky and even John barely looks at the landmarks. We get to the flats, and pass the museum we'd been to yesterday. It has a small route to outside that goes down to the river, and we'd fed some ducks there.

Hamish is giggling by the time we get back, he'd grown tired of rowing and I had tickled him, making sure he didn't get bored or fall asleep before we got to the train.

"Thanks" John says as the owner of the boats takes the rope and then helps him up. Hamish and I get out then pass off our jackets, and we head straight for the station.


	36. Worrying

**_AN: _**_Yay, my lovely Beta is back! Also, John is right to have hope..._

* * *

"Can I go get Hamish now?" I ask, and John turns around slightly.

"He still has three hours left of school, Sherlock. He's only been there fifteen minutes."

That's only half of the usual school day. What am I going to do next year, when he's in for the full six hours? I wonder if John would agree to him coming home for lunch…

"But I'm bored!"

"You can't ruin his education just because you're bored. You could help me." John tosses me one of the teddies Hamish had left, probably wanting me to take it upstairs with the pile of things he'd made at his side. I put it down on the sofa next to me and roll my eyes. "That's ridiculously tedious, John."

"Then don't complain if you're not going to help out." John sighs and gets up, the things having been put in Hamish's box and kicking the rest pointedly closer to the sofa. "Oh and about the nursery, they asked me yesterday how my aunt was. And I had no idea what they were talking about. I forgot to ask you, what with the case."

Ah, the case. I had finished it this morning; again it had been ridiculously easy. The criminals around London were getting even stupider, judging by the most recent cases. Though it did get exciting at one point, I almost thought he was going to be out a serial killer- but sadly he was just a copycat killer and he's only murdered one person.

"Oh…yeah. I was going to say. Last week, while you were at work, I was doing an experiment on spiders, so I was going out to look for more. In the woods. I know how Hai loves it in there, and the trip would have usually been extremely boring and the collecting itself slightly tedious. So I brought him along."

"And the aunt thing?" John sits down, sighing.

"They said I couldn't take him at first, so I made something up. The teacher's mother died only a few months ago of a stroke, so I used that." John puts his hands to his face, bringing them down slowly. I've done something 'not good' again.

"You shouldn't manipulate people like that. And you shouldn't take Hamish out of school, that's the third time this term, and it's only his second."

I sit up, pulling my knees to my chest "But I had nothing to do. Hamish gets bored most of the time in school. And he misses us."

"You can always do those cases Lestrade sends that you refuse. Or ring one of the clients you labelled as boring." John hands me a notepad with client details and I throw it down on the sofa "Hamish is kept busy enough. I think you mean something else." John moves over, sitting closer to me. I shift away, not answering him.

"I think I'll go check on the fingernail experiment."

"No you don't." John grabs my hand as I get up, pulling me back down to the sofa by my wrist. "I need you to promise not to take Hai out of school again, no matter how much you miss him." John's face is softer now, tone less accusing.

See? He gets this and I don't even have to explain, yet he still wants me to do that all the time "I didn't say that I missed him. His education is important, I don't do an anything that will effect it. I took one of the schedules when we were in the office one day, so I know that they're still only learning things he already knows."

"But you do, I know because I do too. You might even be taking him to do more educational things than he's be doing while at school. But it's just not something that you're supposed to do, love."

John puts an arm around me and I lean into him. "It's okay that you miss him. It's normal. You don't need to make excuses."

"But I don't understand. It's so quiet when you're both out, and I'm all alone. I used to love being by myself, revelled in it. I liked the silence, the fact that I could do anything and not be bothered by anyone. I always felt better like that. I was safer. Then we met, and you were here, and I realised that being alone wasn't good at all. That I needed you there. Of course I miss you terribly, even if it is a short amount of time we're apart for. I've always known though, that you'll have to leave for hours at a time, and I can cope with that because I know you'll be okay. You're fine looking after yourself. That's the difference, I guess. Hamish is still so tiny, defenceless. If something every happened at the school…he wouldn't be able to do anything. I want to be there, to be able to look after him all the time."

John turns on the sofa, legs crossed so that he can face me fully. His voice is gentle, like when he's talking to a patient, or putting Hamish to bed "But Sherlock, the school is safe. They're paid to make sure he won't get hurt."

"They're paid to give him an education." I huff and John takes my hands, stroking small circles on the backs of my palms.

"You know Mycroft has people that watch him too."

"They're not always good enough. I want to be there, need to be there. And I just miss him being around here too, his voice, his `questions, playing with him, teaching him." I admit all this to John, we'd both mentioned missing Hamish throughout the day briefly, but never talked about the situation in detail. And he loved it whenever I properly told him whatever I felt, so this was good.

"That's all part of being a parent. One of the hardest, admittedly, but a very important one. Letting your children go, letting them be themselves. And trusting that other people can look out for them, and when they get older, that they can take care of themselves."

"I don't want to."

John lets out a small, sad laugh and hugs me "Oh, love. No one does. But we have to. It's our job."  
We stay like that, bodies pressed together, both thinking in the quiet.

"Sherlock?" John sits up from where we were lounging against the sofa's back "What would you think of another baby?"

"I wouldn't want it. Too much. I couldn't do that."

"What do you mean?" John's expression is calm, and he's making an effort to keep it blank, but I see a brief flicker of disappointment, of pain across his face.

"I don't think I would be able to do it. I couldn't love someone else. I didn't even know I could love anyone at all for years. Now, I have you and Hamish. And that's enough. I think that if I had someone else, it wouldn't work as well, I wouldn't be able to cope with that. I still don't understand, even after all these years, half of the things I think-feel."

"Okay, I really don't think it's like that. You're not like that anymore, Sherlock. And if that's your only objection, then I'm not going to put the thought totally out just yet, we'll just wait a few years."

"It might be better for you if you do, John." I admit, and he smiles and then walks off to get his laptop.

My beautiful, understanding John. This is hurting him, I can tell, but he won't let it show he knows that it would make me feel bad, and he won't do that. And this is worse, I'm sure he knows I can tell but he wouldn't ever stop because he wants us both to believe he's okay. And most of all, he wants to keep that hope. John's always had hope in me, something which means he's regularly disappointed and something I wish he would just give up, because every time I fail, he gets hurt more. And I can't stand that.  
John doesn't mention the matter for the rest of the day, and we go the nursery and get Hamish.  
"Hi." Hamish is stood right at the door, unlike most of the other children he'd got his own bag and had his coat halfway on (one arm in, the other sleeve hanging loose at his side).  
2 hours ago

Hamish hugs at John's legs then grabs both of my hands when I bend down to fix his coat. "Hello. We're going out for lunch today. Where would you like to go?" John gives me a glare at this, there'd been an accident with the fridge, I was trying to freeze some toes, trying the different temperatures, and to further the field I had to adjust the amplitude that was let into the fridge freezer, thus blowing the fuse which meant we couldn't use the fridge for days. There were probably other things that we could have eaten, but John wasn't in the mood for cooking now and it would require too much effort for me to try.

"McDonalds."

"You always want to go there." I moan, the 'restaurant' is always full, and there are always children everywhere. It's almost worse than being stood here, surrounded by Hamish's classmates.

"Toy. Colou'ing in." Hamish reasons, and I pick him up and spin him around.

"Fine Hamish." I say and put him down while he's still giggling, he stumbles a little.

"Yay!" Hamish says and runs off to the gates, catching another boy and talking to him.

"See, Sherlock? You don't even notice it, you make so many sacrifices for Hai already. You didn't even know who Ronald McDonald was before, now we take Hamish there all the time." I look at him questioningly.

"The red haired clown guy? You deleted the last time we went again, didn't you?" John says, laughing a little.

"I remember everything you and Hamish did, just not the other people or the surroundings and things."

"Anyway. You wouldn't go within 20 feet of somewhere so busy with children, and now you do it all time just because Hamish likes it. You hate it but you bare it, because it makes him smile." Oh right, he's onto the whole Hamish growing up thing again.

"Because I love him, it makes sense. But what about if it's something I know he won't enjoy, like the lessons, and I can make him happier?" Hamish stops at the curb and takes John hand as we hail a cab.

"It has to happen. That's how he'll learn things, not everything can be taught from books." John says, wisely (when did he get like this?).  
"I know." I catch Hamish's shoulder and hug him, picking him up. John puts his arms around both of us.


	37. Lab

John's voice is panicked and I can tell from the slight bus on the phone that his hand is slightly shaking (the tremor will appear if he's under a lot of stress, extremely emotional or scared in some way) "Sherlock, where are you? Hai's school just called and said he'd disappeared. They've phoned the police, the-"

"He's here, with me. Please calm down." I interrupt, deciding that that's best.

"What the hell? I almost had a heart attack. Did you take him again?"

"No. Uhm, you know how I showed him how to pickpocket the other day...?"

"You taught him to…You…he's three. What-This isn't the time-Go on."

"Well, he's extremely good at it. He has great coordination for his age and the fact his hands are so small mean that he can easily get into things, if the pocket or whatever is low enough." John's still quiet, waiting for more. I don't go on, and lift Hamish, who had been nudging at my knee, onto my lap. I whisper to him, taking the phone from my ear "It's Dad, and I have a feeling he's going to be mad at us." Hamish slumps and takes my phone from the lab table.

"Go on, Sherlock. Who did he pickpocket? Why did that end up with you taking him out of school?" John's voice is tense, and I can picture him, tapping a hand on the kitchen table, inspecting the orange and fish liver experiment I'd left there (perhaps it looked almost like a meal, before I'd added the carbolic soda, that is).

"I didn't take him out of school exactly…" John 'humphs' on the line. "One of the teachers was wearing a long cardigan, I noticed when I went in. And you know how I was wondering about the smell from the main building?" It had been of something sea water, beef and petrol, "And I couldn't figure out why it would be there?" It had been some strange type of superfood they'd found and were forcing on the children "Anyway. I went across the grounds, searching for that-"

"What has this got to do with taking Hai out of school?" John interrupts, impatient.  
"I didn't, I said. Now, I was going towards the outer building, the closest to the nursery and I heard Hamish shouting me, he'd been at the gate so I went over, but I still couldn't see him. –"

"What has the teacher's cardie got to do with any of this?"

"Let me finish. So, as I turned to go to Hamish, he was already there, at my feet. Somehow he'd gotten out of the fence. The teacher's cardigan pocket had been so low that Hamish could reach, and the woman had been stupid enough to keep her key in there. Hamish took it out, worked at the gate for long enough to get the key in, and then got out."

John didn't speak for a minute, thinking about Hamish's exploits, how capable he was. "Why wasn't someone watching?"

"Exactly what I thought. I guessed they'd panic if he wasn't seen and notify one of us, it took way too long for my liking. I decided that a place that couldn't see that he got out and a teacher that didn't know her key was gone were hardly fit to care properly for Hamish, which is the second reason I took him out, I want to find another school for him."

"You're right, I guess. But it would take a lot uprooting him and things. And you being right there would have mean Mycroft's people didn't react. We'll talk about this when I get home."

"I'm not at home."

"Where are you?" John is supposedly still at the surgery, having called me on finding out Hamish was 'missing' and he'd have to finish the shift before coming back.

"The lab, Hai is helping me."

"Near all the chemicals? Keep him away from them, Sherlock."

"I was just passing him the hydrochloric acid, of course." I say, and I can practically hear John rolling his eyes "I'm not an idiot, John."

"I know, I know. Just when you're working, you get distracted." John says, and I hear the squeak of a chair and a voice, "I've got to go, love you."

"I wouldn't endanger Hamish. Love you too." I pass Hamish the mobile "Say bye to Dad."

"Hi Dada." I hear John's voice on the line, a quiet tone and Hamish laughs, then frowns "No, bye." And gives me back the phone.

"What was that?" I ask, but John says he really needs to go and hangs up.

"What did Dad say?" Hamish ignores me and puts his head down on the table. "I'm done with this, so I was going to show you the fireworks again…" I say, Hamish had a fascination with the iron fillings, which I would allow him to throw into the Bunsen burner (from maybe too far away, but he wouldn't have got many in there anyway).  
"Talk at home." Hamish mumbles and jumps off my lap to the cupboard, looking for the iron filings.

"About what?" I ask, trying to gage a reaction from him.

"Don't know." Hamish says, then comes back to the table "Where fireworks?"

"We'll see then." I lean down and take the pot from the small shelf underneath the desk. "Here. I'll turn the Bunsen on, and we'll play."

I bring Hamish up to the chair next to me and sit down, moving his chair further back from the table and keeping a hand on his arm "Why don't we do it at nursery?" Hamish says as I change the flame and throw a few of the fillings in. Hamish laughs and adds a few in of his own.

"They think you're too young, which you are, but I can watch you so it's safe."  
"But I'm careful." Hamish moans and giggles again when the fire crackles and the sparks appear.

"I know, but a lot of people aren't." I hand him more fillings from the pot "And you're too young to be too near it."

"I'm big!" Hamish protests a little, but is too happy making his fireworks to protest properly.

"Not exactly, you're still very little in comparison." I push the Bunsen back a little and tickle him.

"Fa!" He moans, in between squeals. The door opens, Molly is stood there, a little hesitant. By now I had pulled Hamish to my lap, pulling his arms away from his body and was tickling his stomach.

"Oh you were…Nothing, bye." Molly back out. She's hesitant…what did I do last time I spoke to her? I think it might have been bad, because she had seemed more confident the last time I remember. I look up, and Hamish turns around. No weight gain, still with the boyfriend, family being nice for once. Maybe I shouldn't have deleted what I'd done, though it must have been bad for me to bother in the first place.

"Moll!" Hamish shots and runs over to her. She picks him up

"Hi! Are you okay?" She asks, then pulls a small teddy from her pocket "I thought you were coming today, just later, so I bought you something." She hands him it and Hamish takes it, then hugs her.

"Say thank you, Hamish." I instruct, turning off the burner

"Ta."

"It's okay…nothing really." she mutters, looking at me.

"Molly, please speak properly. Don't mumble."

"Sorry. I just-For goodness sake Sherlock, how could you say that?"

"Say what?" I ask and she lets Hamish down and he goes to the laptop

"How did you forget? I thought you had an eidetic memory-anyway, you told me that Steve was a pimp and that I need to stop searching for people that will hurt me because I never had a father figure, destruction. What are you, a psychologist?"

"I read a textbook when we took Hamish for an IQ test, so I learnt something. I didn't think it would offend you." She sits down, sighing.

"Alright, I shouldn't mind really. I knew he had something dodgy about him." She picks up a beaker, moving it between her hands.

"I'll get John to…set you up with someone." I say, wondering if I'd used the phrase right.  
"Really, you'd do that? For me? Thank you, Sherlock." She gives me a quick hug, startling me "Sorry, I got a little excited…I know a lot of John's friends are lovely…and gorgeous."

"It's alright. And Hamish, you said you had something for Molly, on the computer?" That was okay wasn't it? I don't think I flinched too violently, and my reaction may have seemed almost kind. Good.

"Moll!" Hamish says, tugging her hand. "I drawed you a picture." He brings up the Paint program on the computer, the closed window at the bottom.

"Drew." I correct, but Hamish is too busy telling Molly about what he's drawn.

"Can I print it off and put it on my wall?" Molly asks, leaning over his shoulder.

"Yes. Can I come?"

"To my house? Maybe when your Dads go out again. You can play with Toby again."

Hamish had stayed at Molly's only a few times, but he always came back asking for a pet of his own.

"Yes. Yes!" He turns around "Fa, when you and Dada going out?"

"Trying to get rid of us, Hai?" I ask stepping forward and running a hand through his hair.

"No. I want to go to Moll's." He says, then takes her hand. Molly smiles and puts her other hand on his shoulder.

"You can, for tea. If she agrees" I say, wondering whether John would agree to the new experiment I'd thought of, lets just say that Hamish couldn't be around for that.  
"Of course I'd love Hamish to come to my house, don't be silly." Molly grins and Hamish leans against her.

"I want to see Dad though." Hamish says, still looking at the computer screen.

"Really? I thought part of your reason for going to Molly's was to get out of talking to him about what you did?" I ask, and Molly raises her eyebrows

"What happened?" She interrupts, but I ignore her comment, waiting for Hamish's answer instead.

He moves away from the screen and looks up at me properly "I don't want to be told off but I want to see him." He explains, a little confused,

"He won't really tell you off, you know that. He'll just say not to do that again, and then we'll talk about moving you to another school."

"I don't want another school." Hamish protests, but I shake my head.  
"I think you'll be moving, Hai, but I need to convince your Dad."  
"No!" Hamish says this louder, stomping his foot. Seeing a tantrum about to begin, I don't answer and turn away.

***

Rather than the three of us going all the way back to the flat and then Molly taking Hamish home, we get John to call into the lab to talk to Hamish before he goes to Molly's. His main talk with Hamish is as I predicted, and Hamish is sorry not too upset and being in trouble, he seems to know what he'd done was wrong.

"Hamish, what would you think of going to a new school, stop going to nursery here?" John asks.

"Friends."

"You'll make more." I tell him, bent over the microscope just a little away from where John had sat Hamish on the table top.

"I like these." Hamish turns to me, moving down the desk a little.

"Maybe we should see how it goes, Sherlock. Mycroft's cam-"

"No. He wasn't safe. We are not keeping him there."

"But we want him to be happy, too. Not only safe, and you know why no one acted."  
"You're right, John. But I still don't like it." I say, I'd found a few new schools on the internet. All state run, and a few even had extra teaching for gifted children like Hamish, not too far from the private sector after all.

"We'll go until the end of term, even test them if you want." John says. Testing. Hmmm, this may be quite good actually. Playing with Mycroft's team of agents, I'll go with it.  
"Right. A term."


	38. Surprise

_**AN:** To be continued in a further chapter. Also, I want to a Christmas chapter, I could either write it soon, or post it closer the actual time. Which would you prefer?_

* * *

John's birthday. His present is usually hard, he can mostly predict things or will leave a list (which I never follow) of hints. He asks for items that are boring, and John isn't boring, these aren't what he wants, rather things he needs, so I always look for something else. This year, I'm letting Hamish choose his own present for his Dad, which means I have to take him shopping.

"Hamish, remember, we can't tell Dad where we went today." I hold his coat out and he puts his arms through, then turns around and focuses on fastening his zip.  
He gets the zip done on his seventh try; he's getting a lot better at persevering with that. "Why? He asks me."

"Just say we stayed at home, watched TV." I take his hand and we walk out of the door.  
"Didn't though." Hamish follows me down the stairs, holding on carefully, these are still too steep for him to get down properly.

"I know, but this is better. We want to surprise him."

"It's lying." Hamish whispers, as if he's afraid of anyone else hearing him.

"It's for the best, therefore it's allowed." I explain, then think better of it "But don't lie to me or Dad, unless we say it's okay." Hamish is at the bottom of the stairs and runs to the door.

"What?"  
"It doesn't matter, just tell Dad we were at home." I relent and Hamish still looks worried but seems to agree. We find a taxi and get to the high street.

"What do you want to get Dad then, Hai?"

"Uh…game. He likes snakes." (and ladders, he means) Hamish loved that game, and after I'd gotten bored based on one roll of the die, he had had to play it countless times with Hamish.

"You like that, and we already have it. He won't want other toys either." I add as Hamish looks into the window of the Disney Store.

"I…uhm. Tea." I laugh at this and Hamish looks confused.

"Yes, he does love that. We'll look shall we?" I take him a little up the street, and into a Marks and Spencer's. Hopefully, they'll have some kind of teapot set, or just a lot of different teas, it's a little gift and John will love that Hamish came up with it, plus I'll get Hamish to make him something later. That's usually his favourite kind of present.  
In the shop, Hamish is quickly distracted by all of the cakes and some magazines in there. "Hamish, come on, put it down." I take the bar of chocolate away and her frowns "Don't start."

"I want it." He says quietly. Then louder "Chocolate!" He takes another from the shelf, and I take that then move him away.

"Stop it. Be good."  
"Chocolate!" Hamish whines loudly, still trying to reach. He stamps his foot "Now!"  
I pick him up, before he even starts to throw himself on the floor in a tantrum. "Don't you dare, I don't care what you do, you're not getting that."

"Fa. Please!" Hamish starts crying, full on tantrum mode now, he hits out at me.

"Fine. We'll go home, and Dad will have to miss out on his presents." This should work, I don't want to make him feel bad like that but it's really the only way to get everything over with today. A woman across the isle stares "If you'd used discipline at all, maybe your daughter wouldn't be in prison right now." She scuttles off, scared.

Hamish is quiet "I-I want Dada to have things."

"So you'll be good?" Hamish nods, but doesn't try to get down when I expect. "Aren't you walking?" Hamish puts his head against my shoulder and rubs his eyes.

"Tired." Hamish is light, but still a little awkward to carry as soon as we get back, so I deliberate putting him down, but then he cuddles into me more, and I like this too much. He hasn't slept in the last few nights, we've had a case and he's usually really bad if he's sleeping away (A night with Mycroft -poor child, and four where Mrs Hudson had slept in our apartment with him, then the nights when John and I were actually there, we try to be quiet but he never seems to calm properly when we're both awake all night). "We won't be out long. Look, they have tea things over there. You should get the tartan."  
"What?" Hamish asks as I pick up a box. A mug, tea leaves, a tea strainer, sugar, shortbread and a small tea spoon with a coat of arms.

"Tartan. This pattern." I point to the tin. "It's Scottish. Or maybe the black with the flask. You choose." Hamish gets down, looking at the boxes on the bottom shelf. Hamish looks at all the little boxes on the shelf carefully, then picks up a black one. It has more biscuits in, a flask and John's favourite tea, he must have recognised it. "That it?"

"Will he like it " Hamish passes the box to me and puts his arms out to be picked up again.

"Carry it if I'm picking you up. And he will, especially because you go it for him specially." Hamish smiles and then yawns. "Do you want to go have something to eat after this? Or shall I be quick and you can go home and nap?"

"Too big for naps." Hamish says, sitting up rather than leaning against me and looking around "What food?"

"Sandwiches. You might get a bun too, if you're good." I say, then pay and we go the café on the second floor. All Marks and Spencer's have their own cafes and unlike most shops like this, they actually serve good coffee there.

"Please." Hamish says, he seems to have latched on to the manners-get-you-what-you-want thing very quickly, mostly we don't even need to remind him.

"But what about when you didn't get your chocolate? Are you sorry for shouting?" He probably isn't really, but this is one of the best ways to work with him, so he doesn't misbehave again.

"I won't do it again." Hamish mumbles, looking away. He seemed ashamed that I'd had to bring it up again.

"Alright then, what is it you want?" I ask, and we stand in the queue and Hamish looks through the glass of the stand and picks out a brownie. I add a cup of coffee and toastie and we sit down. We have to wait for the toastie and Hamish is already picking at the cake, so I move it away. "You won't eat your lunch."

"Will." Hamish protests, but I take out a notepad and a pen and get him to draw, a distraction.

"Something beginning with 'A', Hamish." The latest homework he'd been given was tracing letters of the alphabet with their pictures, each letter would have a certain image and this was mostly a task for his memory, not as much for the spelling.  
Hamish picks up the pen and sticks his tongue out a little in concentration. "Apple, Hai?" I ask without looking.

"No." He says with a little annoyance, holding up the picture. Not an apple, then. "Look."  
"Ant? Good Hamish, you didn't even use the most predictable one." We go through the alphabet, getting to E before Hamish's food comes, "Draw me something with F while it cools, or you'll burn yourself." When he's done that, and finished the sandwich and got me to but the uneaten part of the brownie into the carrier bag.

"So, we're just going to go into BHS, he should have a new jumper, then I'm getting the customised laptop." So, the jumper John's going to be fine with, he pretty much expects that. I'm sure he won't like the fact that I bought a laptop however, he'll claim it's 'too extravagant', but he should really have a new one. His current one is at least 3 years out of date, and that irritates me, plus he should really have something new like that.

"How long?" Hamish asks, he jumps off his chair and takes my hand, not even needing to be prompted to stay close like that.

"Look at him, Hai." I point out an extremely overweight man crossing in front of as we head out of the store. "He's a teacher, but he used to be in the circus. He was the ringmaster."

"Can I go?"

"To the circus? We'll look for one. A proper one with a big top and everything if that's what you want. Dad would love to take you."

"You?" Hamish asks, swinging his arm.

"Nah, I don't like it."

"Why?" a woman with a pram almost walks into Hamish, so I tell her boyfriend that she's pregnant again, and its likely not to be his child.

"Too noisy, lots of people."

We're in BHS now, and I've already seen the jumper I plan to buy, so we're in and out of the shop quickly (with a brief stop when Hamish spots some giant teddies, then a few things that they've already brought in for a Christmas section).

"Where now?" Hamish asks, he doesn't seem to have taken account at all that's he's walking now, obviously not as tired as he was before.

"Computer shop." It's not one of the bigger, well known computer stores, they wouldn't do the customisation, so we go down a backstreet and come out into a small square of shops, a space about a hundred times quitter than the main street. I pull Hamish into the store; he'd stopped outside another shop-a pagan store. It had purple velvet in the window, wind chimes, and incense (with smoke coming from it) in the window.  
"Come on." Hamish is still staring into the window as we walk away. He seems completely fascinated by the whole thing.

In fact, he's still peering around as we get through the door of the computer shop. "Watch where you're going, Hamish." I say, there's a step here and he's likely to trip. "Hi. Sherlock Holmes-Watson, I believe you have something for me to pick up?" I ask the college student at the counter.

"Yes, sir. Here." He bends down under the counter and brings out a large box, then undoes it. "I hope it's to your liking." I quickly check on the laptop, find it to be almost perfect, then shut the box again.

"Good enough." I say, then take out the card to pay. Hamish has let go of my hand by now, and is investigating some of the other computers in the shop "And the money knocked off, for helping with your boss' grandmother." I add, as he types in some code. He nods and then puts the laptop and receipt in a bag. "Thanks. We're leaving, Hamish." I wait for him at the end of the short isle and he runs up, grinning. "Home?"

"Yep." I take his hand again and we walk out.

***  
John never even noticed the presents, and I didn't even hide them that well. But that was a good thing; it meant that he would be completely surprised this morning. John is still sleeping, but Hamish will be awake soon and he was excited about today last night, so he'll be down soon. I lean over and kiss him, and he opens his eyes, an arm immediately going around my neck. "Happy Birthday, love." John smiles and kisses me again.

"Good morning." He says, smiling.

"Do you want your presents now, or later?"

"When Hai is with us." John says, with another small kiss.

"I can't give you everything in front of him. Inappropriate, you'd say." (this present wasn't with the others, that would be too close to Hamish, it was in our room).  
"Sherlock…" John sighs, laughing a little. "Alright, we'll do that tonight. I can hear him moving about." John says, as we hear Hamish's feet on the stairs, then he bursts through the door. I roll away from John, and he jumps onto the bed between us.

"Birthday Dadda!" Hamish yells, and John hugs him.

"Thank you." He kisses him then Hamish turns to me.

"Where's presents?"

"I'll get them, you talk to Dad. Did you bring the card down?" Hamish reaches behind him form where he'd dumped the handmade card on the bed, then presents it to John.  
I grin then walk out of the room, going up to Hamish's and taking the presents from the hole in the wall I'd made when teaching Hamish about piping-I really needed a way to demonstrate and this was the most visual (John still doesn't know about that, I moved the wardrobe).

I'd wrapped everything last night, and I run back down "Here." I pass a gift to Hamish and he hands it to John. "I got it." John takes the gift and looks up at me,  
"He's right. He chose it, it was all his idea." I clarify, and John pulls Hamish onto his lap, unwrapping the present in front of both of them.

"Oh Hai. I live it, you thought of tea all by yourself? Thank you." He kisses Hamish's cheek and tickles him, Hamish's high giggle punctuating the whole flat.

"Fa's presents." Hamish says, and grabs at my hand when John releases him from another hug "Dada." Hamish moans, laughing.

"It's my birthday, I get any hugs I want." John pulls him back again, Hamish has been about to take the bag form my hand

"Stop!" Hamish squeals, and John finally takes the presents from my hand

"Why are you still stood up? Come here." John grabs my arm and pulls me onto the bed.

"Open it then!" I'm getting impatient now, worse than all the time I've been waiting since I bought it. He'll love it, but I want to see the look on his face. Imagining it is never enough.

I hand him the laptop first, and place a hand on his knee. He rips the paper, and gasps, looking at the box. "Sherlock, you…it's so expensive….you really shou- It's just the one I wanted. I love it." He turns, pulling my head down to his, kissing me. "It's fantastic, but you spen-"

"Hush." I cut him off, placing the box back on his lap "Open it properly." I pass John the scissors from the bedside table (I'd prepared that earlier) and he opens the box.  
"Why…" he pulls at the polystyrene, then gets to the laptop, "Oh my god. Sherlock you…this is…I-Oh..this."

John pulls the laptop fully out, stroking over the top. Inlaid into the back of the screen, there are pictures, hundreds of them, tiny things. They're in chronological order, John and his family from his childhood, his graduation from university and then medical school, to his time in the army (I love those, John in his full fatigues then dress uniform), then us, candid shots, some posed, our wedding photo, then Hamish-some of him alone, some of us all together, right from his birth up until now.

I didn't even think he would like it this much, it was so close to something I'd given him a few years ago, thing was really the laptop, this was just so it was personalised. "Thank you, love. So much." He props the laptop on the box and hugs me tightly. Hamish kneels up, examining it.

"Solider Dada." Hamish says proudly, pointing to a picture.

"You want to hear some stories? I'll open this and we'll do that."

"Yes. And baby Dada." He adds, looking at the pictures above.


	39. Cooking

_**AN: **Sorry for the lack of update in a week, I deleted half of this and ended up rewriting it. _

* * *

John's taken Hamish out to the park, he's been teaching him various sports lately-hand eye coordination stuff- and Hai seems to be particularly fond of tennis so far (though it's not really tennis, the bats are tiny and have a Velcro surface for the ball to stick-it's just hitting the ball with the bats, but Hamish refers to it like that) so that's what they're doing today.

And then there's why I asked him to go out in the first place, he would have agreed anyway-this was their usual Sunday activity- but it was important right now that John wasn't around. This is only half a surprise really, seen as knows something's going on, actually he's likely to know the whole thing, but that doesn't matter. John was surprised this morning, so that's something.

Cooking. That's it. It shouldn't even count as some big change, and I should really do it more often but it's boring and I usually have much more interesting things to do and we're fine with takeaways or eating out (or Mrs Hudson cooks something, Hamish usually has something healthier). Anyway, cooking isn't really anything that hard, you apply science to it and balance the foods as if they were chemicals, your objective being to get something that tastes good rather than chemical reaction.

Tonight, I'm grilling steaks, making chips, and a cake. Perhaps I should have done the cake earlier, Mrs Hudson was commenting on the lack of one this morning, and John looked a little upset but of course she was in on the plan. She gave me all the recipes. Which means when John comes back early, she'll send him off to the pub where Mike is waiting and bring Hamish up to me. The pub wasn't originally planned, but Hamish really wanted to decorate the cake.

I take the steaks from the fridge- which had been placed in a box labelled 'dog spleens'-and get out the meat tenderiser and hit at it. This is pretty interesting, the affect the mallet has on the meat, I think I'll ask Molly to try it out on a body from the mourge tomorrow. When that's done, I mix measured quantities of spices and coat the meat, then wrap it up so I can cook it later. The chips are hardly work at all, but this way is better than buying them, I can get each to the same size. I don't know why this cooking thing is supposed to be such a talent, it's perfectly easy with a recipe and if you use a scientific method.

With that done, I take the steaks back out, tenderise them again and add different spices. Next, we're onto the cake. It started raining just as I'd found the chip fryer and left the potatoes in it, which meant Hamish would be here even sooner. Thankfully, they both left with coats on so John won't need to come up and dry off. I run down and pass an umbrella to Mrs Hudson, looking at the rain pattern the one he took out with him in his pocket will have broken in the wind, so he'll insist on coming to get a second.  
I'm only just back upstairs when John opens the door, Hamish in his arms. I duck into the door and then hear Mrs Hudson pop out, persuading him into leaving again. He argues a little more than expected, and I hear Hamish groan a little and it seems that he's now being carried by Mrs Hudson instead. Why is that needed? The door shuts and she attempts the stairs, her walking pattern different under Hamish's weight. Her hip's playing up again so this is even more unnecessary I leave the dry ingredients of the cake mix and go down to help her.  
"Oh Sherlock, dear. Are you alright to get Hamish from me? He's a bit heavy now and-" I'm already down, I hadn't seen from my angle before, but Hamish is holding his leg right out, not letting it touch her body. I take him immediately.

He's fallen- and not on the softer court either, looking at the stain on his light trousers, he fell on the uneven path near the swings. "Does it hurt, Hai?" I balance him on a hip and roll up the linen trousers, Hamish whimpers as brushers against the injury. He's scraped all the way up his shin, a deeper cut on the knee. The question was obvious, but his reaction would detail how well he was coping, and if I had to give him medication. "Yes" Hamish says, burying his face in my shirt. His voice is quiet, but as we go upstairs his legs hit against my body, and he whimpers a little but doesn't moan too much, "Are we making cake?" Ah, good, he can focus on other things already. He'll be fine, I'll just clean the cut, give him a plaster and he won't be too bad. Maybe Calpol later if it still hurts "Yes, I'm nearly done, so we'll cook it then you can but the icing and sweets on". I start on up the stairs, kicking the door open.

"Eat some?" Hamish asks as I sit him on the kitchen table and find John's first aid kit. I take the kit from a high cupboard and run some kitchen roll under the water. "A few. You have your tea to eat." Hamish won't eat the steak, based on the spices, so I'm doing a chicken breast too. "This will sting a bit, Hai. I'll just get the dirt and things off of your leg." I bend down and wipe over the cut, Hamish grabbing hold of the hand still on the table. "You alright?" I smile as I get up, Hamish still holding onto my hand as I throw the kitchen roll away. Hamish nods, biting his lip. I kiss his forehead "You're being really brave, Hai. We've done this but it isn't clean enough." I pick the Savlon spray from the box on the table, and bend down again "This will get all of the dirt out, so your knee doesn't get infected, but it'll hurt. Even more than before" I lift his leg and press my finger to the spray of antiseptic "I'll press it now, try to stay still, okay?"

Hamish looks up at me, tears already in his eyes. "Ow Fa!" he whispers, crying a little.  
"We don't want your leg falling off, do we? Though I could use it in and experiment. Nice leg, this" I move my hand lightly around his, tickling behind his knee. Hamish laughs, still teary, pulling his leg away and wincing "No. My leg"

"Alright, alright. You keep it. Come back here, you still need a plaster" Hamish shuffles forward again. "Which plaster?" Hamish has a selection, some with footballs, Dora the Explorer, camouflage ones, Winne the Pooh (oh for god's sake, this is useless, why do I recognise these characters?). "You need two, you can have different ones."

"Dora and army" Hamish says, pointing at the boxes.

"Of course" I apply the plasters, then lift him off the table. "That alright?"

"Ow" Hamish moans as his knee straightens out.  
"You'll be fine, you're brave." I pick some trousers from the folded pile of washing on the chair. "Your trousers are all dirty, and you still have your coat on. You change them and watch TV for a while"

"I help" Hamish says, taking his coat off and throwing it on the floor.

"If you want." I move a chair with one hand nearer to the fridge "Climb up there and get me the milk then." At this point, Hamish is halfway through changing his trousers, but is too eager to help to notice they're still stuck at his shoes. "Hamish no" I stop him getting on the chair. "Get these off properly first, silly." I undo his trainers so he pulls the trousers off, passing him the second pair as he sits down. At this point his 'helping' is just taking up more time, but he enjoys it and it's another way for him to learn.  
I hold his hand as stands up on the chair, and he takes out the smaller bottle of milk (the one he can pick up properly) and gives it to me, "Thank you, Hamish" I let go and he slides of the chair, "Fridge". Hamish looks up, noticing he'd left the door open. He gets up again, shuts it then attempts to drag the chair back to the table. "Alright, pour these in the bowl" I hand him the eggs I'd beaten while he was at the fridge (that didn't need any focus, I hadn't been looking at them and it was easy enough to turn if Hamish fell) as he stands up and I tell him he can sit on the table if his leg hurts, which he does. We finish off the cake, Hamish doing a lot of the mixing and I put it in the oven.

"That has to cook, I'm gonna clean up…go watch something." I take a cloth from the sink and lift Hamish off the table.

"Then sweets on it?" Hamish is in the living room now, getting out toys.

"It needs to cool before that, and we need to sandwich the sections together with jam and cream, but yes. Clean those up when you're done, please." Hamish sighs and I carry on cleaning. This is easy too. I don't see why people complain so much, then again it's not interesting at all so there is some point behind it.

"Done now?" Hamish comes in, a lego structure in his hand.

"No, it isn't even out of the oven. Why don't you draw Dad a picture for his birthday? To go with his card?"

"I maked him lego" Hamish says, holding up the structure.

"Made." I look at the pieces in his hand, totally unsure of what it is, then read him instead. His Dad's birthday, so something Hamish will think he likes, blues and reds in a striped pattern, then there's the present Hamish already got him. The colours of the lego, plus the tunnel shape of them, a cup. This only takes a second of actually looking at the structure and I smile at him "You made him a cup? That's really nice. But he won't be able to use it, it'll leak"

"Oh" Hamish says disappointed, and puts the lego on the table "On the shelf" Hamish points to the mantelpiece, not full of clay ornaments and other things Hamish has decorated, plus a few photos and John's cards. "Good idea. Are you still going to do a picture?"

"Yep." Hamish grins, then runs upstairs to get his pens.

"What're you going to draw?" I ask, sitting on the sofa behind him when he comes back down, just behind where his lego had been spread on the floor. "Clear up before you start"

"But I-"

"Do it, Hamish" I pass him the empty book and he grumbles but starts filling it. "Alright, do the colours in alphabetical order" there's always some way to teach him.

"I don't know them" Hamish picks up a blue block.

"You do, that's right. Blues first" I encourage and Hamish smiles, when he's done, he picks up another. "Green?"

"Good, Hamish. You do those and I'll take the cake out. What will you be doing after?" I get up, and Hamish picks up a red block. "Yes, you're right. You can spell them, don't doubt yourself"

I but the cake tins on a cooling rack and come back to Hamish onto the white blocks. "You didn't even ask then, and you were still right. What would go first, blue or brown?" I test, Hamish thinks for a second.

"Blue, easy" Maybe it is too simple for him, but he needs to keep practicing.

"Do the yellow then and get on with your picture" I bend down to help him then put the box back in the cupboard. I think about looking at the hair samples above the box's shelf but then realise that it's likely to create mess, and for the next 40 minutes I'll be able to wait.

"What are you going to draw?" I sit on the floor with him, picking up a pen and throwing it in the air, twirling it. Hamish immediately tries to copy and it almost hits him in the face, he laughs though and tries again "Hurry up, we'll have to start the cake soon"

"Oh." Hamish leans over again "I draw today. Dada present, football and cake" Hamish starts on his usual figures, a lot neater than the average 3 year olds.

"He'll love it." I take a piece of paper from him, then draw out the floor plan of a house a few streets away, a man a few houses away is planning to rob it and I want to see how successful he'll be and wonder whether to bother reporting him. I want to see if I get every item he plans to steal first though. When I've done, Hamish is writing his name on the bottom of the sheet and I stand up "I'll but the jam and cream in the cake and mix the icing, what colour do you want?"

"Uhm…Dada likes green"

I walk out and lift the cake halves out, then whipping the cream to the right consistency for the middle of the cake. It doesn't take me long to finish the filling and then mix the icing correctly. "Hamish, your turn" Hamish runs in, picture still in his hand and places it next to his lego.

I lift him to the table again and spread the icing with a knife as he takes sweets from a few packets I'd laid out. Hamish places each on carefully as soon as I'm done, and I see that he's trying to form a certain pattern.

I smile at him "Hai, it should really read 'John' not D-" he looks up at me, upset but inquisitive.

"Nothing, it's perfect" I rest a hand on his back, he's moving closer to the edge of the table. He finishes his letters and then adds chocolates around the edges of the cake, and tells me he's done.

"That looks fantastic. We'll put it in the fridge now, Dad'll be home in 4 minutes" I'd put Hamish's chicken in the oven while he was still colouring, and I take the steaks out and put them under the grill now.

Hamish gets off the table and goes straight to the window to wait. He shouts out when John appears in his line of vision. "I go to the door?" he asks, halfway across the room.

"Meet him downstairs, yeah. But don't tell him about dinner yet. Surprise, you know?"

"Yes Fa" Hamish says, already out of the door. I hear John greet him, then step out onto the landing to hear the conversation properly, John immediately asks Hamish about his leg, then lifts him up and looks at it quickly. "Perfectly fine. Were you brave when Father fixed it?"

"Yes. Go upstairs" Hamish insists, impatient.

"Why, what's happened? I was about to go and see-" John teases, Hamish attempting to slip down and pull him up the stairs.

"No, now."

"Okay, okay. If you're really desperate" John laughs, running up the stairs. I immediately duck back into the flat. I don't think I should have left the steaks like that, but it'll be fine, they didn't burn or overcook.

John come up, Hamish chatting away, telling him about his picture. "What smells so nice?" Hamish giggles and gets down from his arms and runs to the kitchen

"He's here" Hamish giggles and runs out again, taking his drawing and lego to John "Fantastic, Hamish" John says, "I wish I could use it all the time, but we'll keep it special, okay?" John puts it on the shelf, just as Hamish had intended. "And your drawing? Wow, you're so good" John comments on little aspects of it, Hamish chatting animatedly about his work.

He comes into the kitchen and puts it on the fridge immediately, finally turning around to greet me. "You're cooking? Oh god, I really didn't expect this. And steak" he looks into the grill "My favourite, I love it"

"It'll be ready in 3 minutes, we're really only waiting for the chips" I indicate the fryer which I'd turned on as I mixed the cream for the cake) "Sit down"

"Very nice" John leans over and kisses my cheek.

The steaks are done at the same time as Hamish's chicken, so we all sit down together "And you're even eating? I really need my birthday to be more than once a year"

Apparently, the steak and chips are some of the best he's ever had, and he says he's almost worried about not having room for desert. Hamish moans at him then "Yes, Dada. We made you special cake"

"Oh, really? I always have room for cake" John sits up again, and my phone rings. Mycroft. I ignore it. I'm sure he's asking for cake, probably ruining his years long diet.

I take the cake from the fridge and light add candles, lighting them with my back to the table. "Blow them out, then"

"You're supposed to sing" John says helpfully, but I stare at him and he laughs "Fine, fine. They sang to me down at the pub anyway. Hamish, want to blow them out for me? You can have my wish, too" Hamish leans forward in excitement, eyes closed.

We're laid in bed later that night, John's head on my chest "Today was brilliant, really. You did everything I could have wanted, and more. You're very caring when you want to be, mainly because you can deduce their exact desires, I guess. But you always get things exactly right for me"

"Not for everyone, and not always. But I do think I did do particularly well today" John chuckles.

"Mmm hmm. Come here" he moves up in the bed, pulling me into a kiss.


	40. Mother's Day

"Hamish, what's wrong?" John asks as Hamish trails his feet on the pavement. We're walking home today, the weather's finally getting a little nicer and according to John this means that we should be walking more. It's still cold, but I've been told that we need to spend time outside 'while it lasts'.

John's right, Hamish is upset, it's something at nursery. According to his clothes, they'd been doing crafts, and this will usually put Hamish in a good mood. "Everyone asking me questions" I'm surprised by this, Hamish usually loves to help people in that way.  
"Why does that make you sad?"

"Not questions. Being mean" John shoots me a 'we-are-so-calling-in-about-this' glance, then picks Hamish up. "What did they say?" Hamish leans his head against John's chest, not answering.

"You have to tell us or we can't help. Didn't you tell a teacher?" John pushes Hamish's hair back from his face, it probably needs a trim but John likes when it's a little longer, calling it cuter.

"No. Fa says they're stupid" Hamish is only avoiding the question here, but I hadn't exactly told him that, rather John and he must have been listening.

"Sherlock!" John scolds, then turns back to Hamish. "What did they say?"

"That you're weird" Hamish says, against John's shirt.

I almost laugh, this is barely an insult at all but the fact that it's affected Hamish in any way stops me "Why does that upset you?" I ask, a little confused, I've been 'weird' all my life and that in particular never bothered me.

"Don't be insensitive, Sherlock." John snaps "Why did they say that?"  
"Making Mum cards" Oh. That sort of craft. Mother's Day must be soon or something, I remember now seeing cards around, and John mentioning going to get a present for his own mother "And I don't have one so I can't, they were mean"  
"Oh Hai" John hugs Hamish harder, kissing his hair. "They just don't understand yet, that's all."

"They're stupid?"

"Yes," I put in, and get yet another annoyed glance form John. We're almost home now, so I take John's key out of his pocket and walk ahead a little.

"Not stupid, just not like you." Hamish thinks about this for a while, and we get into the flat. By the time we get upstairs, he looks confused.

"How do I make them stop?" Hamish asks, looking down at his shoes.

"We'll ask the teacher. Make sure they don't, alright?" Hamish nods, but still won't make eye contact.

"There's something else. What aren't you telling us, Hai?" I ask, bending in front of him and lifting his head.

"They said a word. Like it was a bad one"

"What?" John's next to me now, and he pulls Hamish onto his knee, hugging him. "You won't get told off, just say it. " John prompts when Hamish doesn't speak.

"Gay" Hamish whispers, and I laugh. "Fa don't" he protests, and I lean over to hug him, still laughing.

"Sorry, sorry. Hai, it's not a bad word at all"

"Bless you" John says, rubbing Hamish's arm comfortingly. "That's just the word for us" John says, biting his lip to avoid laughing too.

"Why?"

"Two men together-or more accurately, me who are sexually attracted" John winces a little at the 'sexually' so I leave it out "to other men are gay, and women who are attracted other women are lesbians. Like Aunt Harry, but the proper word is homosexual. And men who like women and the other way around are heterosexual, straight" I explain, not getting into the other types of sexuality, it would probably overwhelm him.

"Oh. Alright" Hamish says, getting up from John's lap and taking the laptop from the table, turning it on.

"You don't have any more questions?" John leans towards Hamish, taking the laptop and putting the password in, he waits then puts Hamish's usual site on (the Cbeebies one, he usually plays games on it) passing it back to him.

Hamish shakes his head and goes to his game, smiling a little now. Happy he understands. I should have known that it was only his limited knowledge on this subject was what was upsetting him. John gets up, gesturing for me to follow him.

"What?" I say, as soon as we get into the kitchen. This is about Hamish, about what we just told him, and probably going to be John worrying in some way or another.

"I don't like this. These are three year olds, and they're already teasing him because of us"  
"And you're worried it's only going to become worse?"  
"Yes. And we can't always be there to help him" John says, watching Hamish through the door.

"He'll be able to defend himself when and if that happens. He wont just let them bully him."

"I guess." John sighs "What are we doing about today?"

"Oh. Give me a second" I lean away from the kitchen, shouting over to Hamish "Who was it that told you we were 'weird'?"

"Daisy" Hamish answers, not looking up.

"Thanks" I step back into the kitchen "That's the one with the housewife mother with alcoholic tendencies suppressing her bisexuality because her family is highly homophobic, right?"

"What?" John looks bewildered "The one with short, straight hair, and the weird nose?" I nod and John grins. "I guess that's our explanation, she was just parroting her mother."  
"Obviously. And now Hamish is upset. I think I'm going to phone her husband, probably her parents too, tell them about her affair with the nanny"

"Sherlock you can't" John says, biting his lip in an effort to frown. "I feel sorry for her, really. But that's no reason to pass on her homophobic views to her daughter. It might not hurt her if she was exposed"

"Exactly" I take my own laptop, planning anonymous emails to the mother's own family. John didn't really mean it when he forbade me.

John turns and puts the kettle on "Do you think we should say more to him? Tell him about the surrogate and everything?"

"If you want." John leans over my shoulder, looking at the screen. I have a spreadsheet up on the mould experiment on the table, and he shakes his head. "Nah, we'll wait until he asks or he's at least a little older, it's too close to 'the sex talk' and he's too young for that"

"We could explain it without that. But as you wish."

"I'll see if he has any other questions in a while, when he's had time to think about it." John pours his tea and walks into the living room. "Can you do that in here? With us?"  
"Of course." I follow him in, and enter the spores' development form memory, hardly any more difficult than looking right at them.

"What did you do while the others were making the Mother's Day cards?" John asks, and lifts Hamish with the laptop onto the sofa, a better way for him to sit. "Made for Grandma"

"Which?" John asks, and Hamish pushes the laptop away, irritated at being interrupted.  
"Best one" Hamish says, and John shakes his head.

"You can't refer to them like that. But anyway, if you're doing more tomorrow, you should make sure you do both"

"But three grandmas"

"My mother refuses anything homemade. Prefers anything from a specific list. You never do her one. Remember from Christmas?" John had gotten Hamish to make her a photo frame, well decorate one and she had taken a very brief look at it and then criticised.

"Yes. Mean"

"Hamish, don't say things like that. She's your grandmother" John scolds

"Why can't he? It's true." I say, John will be thinking that Hamish's comment would have offended me. Most people will be over defensive about their mothers in that way.

"He shouldn't. But yeah, she is awful with homemade stuff, I thought we'd try again"

"Mycroft will get her something. He usually does it, hotwires the money from our account" I explain, John knows how Mycroft works and he hates it, but doesn't bother to complain.

"Fine. Will we have to see her too?" John seems to be planning a schedule in his head.

"I don't want to. Depends how forceful she is"

"No" Hamish adds, and I snort.

"We'll see." John tells him. "And you're sure there aren't more questions?"

"Uhm." Hamish passes the laptop to John, then curls against his side. He's tired, again he's refusing to sleep while we're away. (The case was finished at 11pm, hardly late, but still 4 hours later than Hamish's usual time). "Why they say 'weird'?"

"Because they're idiots"

"Sherlock, can you please give helpful answers? This isn't what he needs." I roll my eyes at him, then John continues "Well Hai, there are some people who don't think men should be with other men, or women with other women"

"But you and Fa love each other" Hamish protests, not understanding the prejudice. "Why?"

"Why don't they like it?" John queries "Because of things in their religions, they think it's against God to be gay"

John's parents were religious, and his mother had taken Hamish to church with them when he'd been up there. "Grandma says God loves everyone"

"Yes. That's just Christianity though, a lot of other religions believe the same."

"And they're all very contradictory" I put in, this part is definitely 'helpful'. "So just tell them they're wrong, okay?"

"Or." John's tone is deeper and Hamish looks back over to him "You could say that and explain that it's just the same as their parents"

"And they stop being mean?"

"We hope so" John says, and Hamish moves to get up again, probably to change his clothes, then moves back.

"I'll tell them you're the best ever and they're stupid"

"Yes, thank you Hamish" I say, he looked almost fierce in that, eyes bright.

"Maybe not stupid" John adds, but his eyes twinkle with amusement and pride.


	41. Violin

_**AN: **The will be a chapter for Halloween, published on the actual day but what should Hamish wear? Poll on my profile. Oh, and I have no idea how to play the violin, so sorry for any inaccuracy. _

* * *

"We maked a song today" Hamish says as we walk out of the nursery door.

"Made, try to remember. Did you sing?" I wave at a cab as we get to the road and it stops. We get in and I buckle Hamish in, taking his schoolbag.

"No. Drums"

"Do you like playing them? I could teach you properly" I haven't exactly learnt to play the drums, but a few books will suffice and they'll be much easier than the violin.

"Big drums?" Hamish asks, supposedly he's had bongos or something similar.

"Yeah, if Dad doesn't mind. For Christmas" John probably will mind, Hamish is likely to want to play all the time, causing a lot of nose which most people would find annoying. Then again, he's used to my violin, so he'll be easy to persuade.

"I wanted your music" Hamish says, trying to look out of the window, we're just a few streets away from home now, and he's wanting to check.

"For school? I'll find you some like it to give to the teachers, it will be good for the rest of the class to hear something like that" Hamish was possibly suggesting that I go in and play for them, but that would mean being around a lot of children which I couldn't stand and playing in front of strangers.

"No. I play" Hamish tugs at his seatbelt. It's too low on him without having a car seat and tends to dig into his neck. I lean over, wrapping his scarf around him again, he'd taken it off for some reason when we'd gotten into the car, protecting his neck. "Warm" Hamish pulls at the scarf again, leaving it still hanging on the belt. We'll be out in minutes, so he should really have it on but instead I leave it as his neck is still properly covered.

"It's very hard. The average starting age is seven, and you'd have to get an adjusted one so you can hold it properly"

"I try?" Hamish asks "I wanna be like you at it" Hamish looks up at me, not realising how sweet he's just sounded. (Sweet? I swear to god, if I'd thought I'd ever use that word to describe anyone or something they'd said a few years ago I would have had myself committed to a mental asylum and now I seem to overuse the term with Hamish, or 'cute'. What has happened to me?).

"Alright, I suppose I can teach you notes and basic movements with mine, we'll have to see about your own later." My own childhood violin was likely to still be back at our parents', they never throw anything away. I'll have to text Mycroft about it-better than communicating with my parents, though still hateful- he goes there a lot. Hamish smiles and the car pulls up to out flat. I pay then let Hamish out. (Mycroft had recently gotten a law passed that taxis needed to have child locks on their doors- employed as soon as a child is inside-after Hamish had figured out how to open the doors in the middle of a motorway.)

Hamish waits at the door and runs up as soon as I unlock it. "Start now?" He goes to the living room and takes the violin from the coffee table.

"Do you have homework?" I look into his bag, it has a change of clothes (a requirement in case they're doing anything messy), the remains of his snack and some dead leaves. So he doesn't at all. "What're the leaves for?"

"Science" Hamish takes them from me, he decided yesterday when he brought home a lot of twigs that he'd do his own experiments. The twigs are sat on a corner of the table, some coloured in and others dipped in foods. He wrote things down too, on a large sheet of paper. He's only playing, he isn't testing anything but I'm going to do something real with him at the weekend.

"But the violin first?" I empty his bag out, all of the clothes are now covered in dirt and partially disintegrated leaves. Hamish nods and shifts the instrument awkwardly to his left hand, picking the bow up. "This is why you need a smaller one" I walk over to him, kneeling behind him. I take the violin and hold it at the appropriate angle against his body, then move his hand to hold it. He can hardly reach, but this will be fine for tonight. It keeps slipping, due to the chinrest behind far too big, so I use a hand to steady it at first, at least until he starts playing. "We'll just try with the movement of the bow first, no real notes."

I put an arm around Hamish's, pulling the bow back, he doesn't have it angled right, having moved it from where I'd placed it. I move him again and place the hand on his elbow this time, and we get a noise out of it this time. A terrible screech, but nonetheless, something. Hamish laughs "Do it myself now?" he asks, letting his arm go back to its original position.

"You can try" I walk around to his front, watching his position. On the first try, he gets a small noise but that can hardly be counted. He barely brushed the strings. "Again. Look at where the bow is going" I rest my hand lightly on his elbow, only guiding him a little, he produces a sound, then protests, wanting to be more independent. "Alright. I'm going to get some paper and I'll teach you the notes" I wasn't going to teach him how to read music just yet, I was just going to sketch the violin and label each part he needs to know. Hamish's tongue is poking out of the corner of his mouth now and he's staring at the strings. I hold onto the end of the violin so he can drop his hand, making him more comfortable. He manages to make a long scraping sound, but he grins, trying again. He succeeds a second time, then a third. He's obviously gotten a proper grip of the technique, so pick up some paper and pens, then sit cross legged in front of him.

"One minute and we'll try again ." I lean over, doing an extremely rough sketch of the instrument. I take one colour and label the sections of the violin, then in a different colour for each, label each string with its note. I hold it up "So, let's try each note first. Do the G" I point on the diagram, turning it to the right angle so he can apply it to the violin in his arms. I support the end of it for him again. "That's the one closest to the arm holding it" his left-but he isn't good with left and right yet- Hamish pulls the bow back again, focusing on moving it to the correct string. He gets frustrated after this fourth try at playing the note fails, and I lean forward to position his arms correctly and sit back on my heels, watching him. This first session will be mostly my assessment of Hamish's ability to learn and how best to teach him, next time will be a lot better.

Hamish successfully plays the note, and I clap him a little. "Want to try more or shall we watch TV?" Hamish is usually tired upon coming back from school, and he'll need lunch soon. He thinks about this for a second "After next one. Dada lunch?" Hamish drops the bow to his side, leaving it so it's dragging on the floor. "Yes, he's bringing something back with him" I get out my phone then, sending the text to Mycroft.

We move into the D string, Hamish beginning to fidget a little. He's far too uncomfortable holding the violin even with my help to do anything properly, so we stop after one successful note (well, him getting the string to make a sound alone, not well or accurately, but it can still be counted as a success). "I can't" Hamish moans, the violin slipping away from his chin again. "It's fine, you've done really well. We'll find a better way" I take the instrument from his hands, tickling under his chin. There's a little red mark there where he's tried to get the instrument to stay in place by force.

I'm about to but the violin back in its case when Hamish taps my leg "You play? Show?"

"You're still not changed" I say, looking at his clothes. I hadn't even thought of it, the full shirt is usually slightly uncomfortable for him, and he's usually taken at least the blazer off by now, if not fully changed. I take him upstairs and hand him some clothes. "Might as well feel more comfortable, change and I'll play"

I leave him in his room and wonder whether to play something of my own, something 'classical' as John calls it (I wouldn't label it like that ,I'd have a much better name ) or something that Hamish will properly recognise. I go for the latter, and play one of the nursery rhymes he usually sings with John as he comes down the stairs. I could teach him this first, these notes are incredibly simple.

"Mice" Hamish shouts, recognising the tune. "Lazy Town song?" he asks, thinking of one if his favourite shows. That program has a lot of songs, and I've successfully deleted most, but he was watching before school so I haven't had time to delete the whole thing again "Which one?"

Hamish frowns, having no idea what any of the song's names are. He begins to sing instead, "Go go, in Lazy Town, it's the start of.." I stop him, it's the theme and probably the worst of them all.

"Do I have to?" he sits down on the sofa, then nods.

"Please?" Hamish is extremely hard to resist when he looks at me like that, and uses that tone, he looks adorable (not intentional manipulation, and I _so _do not always give into it). I begin playing, getting as close to the notes as I can on the violin, finding them purely on memory, Hamish is standing up on the sofa, dancing and singing.

On the third repeat of the song, John walks in "Is that a violin rendition of Lazy Town?" he places a bag on the kitchen table, laughing. "What are you two doing?"

"Hamish wanted music" I say, and he passes me a sandwich form the bag and kisses my cheek. Hamish jumps off the sofa, grabbing at John's hands, jumping in excitement

"Dada, Dada. I'm going to play the violin and be good and make songs and violin with Fa and learn and I'm getting my own and it'll be a special one and I want a blue one" Hamish stops, taking a breath for the first time "be the best at violin and show everyone and do all the good songs and be in a band like Miss Kennan said " Hamish's music teacher, she used to be in an orchestra and now teaches the whole school.

"Whoa Hai, slow down" John hands him a drink and a sandwich "I'm sure you'll be great, yes. When did you decide to play? How will you learn?"

"Nursery" Hamish says, his mouth full. He tries to answer the second but almost chokes on the sandwich, John hastily shoving juice at him. "Eat carefully/ I know you're excited but eat slower, please"

"I was teaching him today, and I intend to go on with it" I say, sitting down with them and putting the boxed sandwich on the table.

"Great. Doesn't he need a smaller one though?" John runs a hand over the violin that's I'd just laid on the arm of the sofa. "And eat something, please"

"I had and apple at 4am this morning, you even asked me when I came back to bed. I don't need anything."

"Did I?" John shakes his head, he's been half asleep

"And to answer you other question, Mycroft should be having someone drop of my old one soon" And right on cue, the doorbell rings. The perfect ring for one of Mycroft's team. "I'll go get it" I say, Hamish gets up to follow me. "We'll play this afternoon, I can show you properly now. And when you're good enough, we'll do a proper concert for Dad" I whisper the last part, and Hamish grins and claps his hands.

Upstairs, I take out the violin, tune it and pass it to him. Almost all of the rest of the day is spent teaching him, John offering praise and taking photos as well as short videos for some reason.


	42. Halloween

_**AN**:Themed chapter for today. This is a typical English Halloween, we don't really do as much as Americans for the holiday (as far as I know). _

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Halloween. Probably my most loathed holiday of the year. People come to your door and ask to be given something-well, they _expect _it. It's forced interaction and that's terrible. Then there are the people that think it's fine to jump out at you from street corners 'scaring you' I always notice far ahead of time and they end up on the floor and a few times Lestrade has almost put those on my record. It used to be Mischievous Night, and I would go around as a kid figuring out who caused each mess. Who had stolen the neighbour's cat, who had thrown eggs at the window, who had forced the young boy from down the street up a tree. It was much more fun.

Though unfortunately, Hamish seems to love the holiday; he's been told all about it in school and now he wants to go trick or treating. John was supposed to be taking him around a few flats and buildings but now he's working until seven and I'll have to take Hamish out for a while considering his bed time. I asked John to change his shift, however apparently they're annoyed at him for the other week when we had no case-or proof of one-and I'd just phoned to tell them he wouldn't go in without an explanation, mainly because I was bored and that was the week of our anniversary.

First, we need to find him a costume. I would rather he wore something he already had. He has dress up clothes in his cupboard; including a doctor, a fireman, a policeman, a few superheroes (I'm not really sure on the names. It isn't relevant anyway) and he says he wants to be something else but he doesn't know what. John says that we can't just look online as well, apparently the sizes are too inaccurate, so I have to go out and buy him something. Well, at least John can come for this one-I don't see why I have to in this case, but he's insisting.

"Fa! We're going now" Hamish comes into the bedroom, his coat already on. He jumps onto the bed and sits beside me. I don't react, finishing typing up the notes "Fa. Hurry up." He looks over at the screen putting half of his weight on my knee , blocking my view "What you doing? We should go now" Hamish pulls at my hand.

"Making notes. I'm almost done" I type anther line and save the file. Hamish is still pulling at my hand so I was a lot slower at typing than I would have been "Alright. I'm ready. Get off then" I move the leg that was resting me and stand up, Hamish jumps off of the bed

"Right. Let's go" I smile, taking his hand and putting my coat on the way out. John will have gone downstairs, trying to get a cab. He's waiting outside in one as we walk out.

"I was about to call you to come down. Took your time" I get in and buckle Hamish between us

"I was busy, you only just got this. It's fine"

The ride to the highstreet is thankfully short, the driver taking my instructions on a slightly shorter route (I may have made him cut through a few car parks) than the normal one we're usually taken. John gets out first and pays then leads us to a small shop just behind the main straight specialising in fancy dress. "I'm hoping they have something here. If not, we still have the larger shops-though there outfits are likely to be pretty generic. What do you even want to be Hai?"

"Don't know" Hamish says, and grabs John's hand so he's walking in between us, linked with each.

"Alright, we'll look around" John says, smiling.

"You must have some idea" I put in; hopefully this will mean that the process is hurried along.

"I don't" Hamish protests as we walk into the shop. It's busy so I stay pressed against John, Hamish hanging onto his hand in front. Everything is extremely colourful, there are wigs, makeup, props and of course the outfits. Hundreds. We pass the women's section (the largest section, though it does seem to have the smallest items of clothing just an abundance of them) and go down the stairs to the children's.

John goes to the racks, rifling through the specialised Halloween section. "A skeleton, Hai?" Hamish shakes his head and stands next to John, not agreeing on anything. "Nope? Still nothing?" he sighs and moves to another part. This was 'jobs' and Hamish didn't seem enthusiastic after the first few and John moved on. "Stop being so picky. I want to go" I say, leaning back against a wall.

John gives me a look. "But I want the best" Hamish pleads "I'll be better. Let me look"

"Yes fine. Quickly" I go over to John, leaning into him. "Bored"

"Shhhh. We won't be long" he moves to another rail, the superhero section. "Hamish, come here" Hamish had wondered back to the jobs section, looking at something. He looked almost dazed when he came back, he was deep in thought. "Right, look at these. Superman?" John holds out the costume and Hamish shakes his head. "No." John picks out another, then a third and fourth, Hamish shaking his head at each "Then what Hamish? We've been through every section in this store"

"I sawed it over there. I want to be a real hero, like Dada. A solider" Hamish walks back over, both of us following and points to the uniform. "Please?"

"Hai, you're very sweet. Of course you can have it" John bends and hugs Hamish, blushing a little, Hamish had spoken quite loudly and a few women around had 'awwed' at them. When he gets up, he kisses me "You've been telling him stories again haven't you?"

"I always do" we pay for the outfit and walk out. John decided it's lunch time and we have something in a small café, then go home.

John leaves just before we have to set off to trick or treat, and he's arranged for me to go with Elizabeth, apparently it could be more enjoyable for me. Hamish is excited about seeing Emma after so long so I guess that it's worth it. I'll have to explain that I want to get this over and done with as soon as possible.

John dressed Hamish earlier, and he'd been taking pictures all afternoon. "Alright, you're going down Elizabeth's area, right? More houses" I nod and Hamish comes over and sits next to me. "Alright. Bye Hai. Have a good night, don't eat too many sweets" he kisses Hamish's hair (he doesn't seem to notice, focuses on the game I'd switched to for him on the laptop) and then kisses me leaning over him. "Sherlock ,try not to offend anyone"

John walks out and Hamish looks up, shouting bye just before he closes the door. "Alright, get your bag and we'll go. I'll get our coats" I try not to sigh and roll my eyes as I think of the rest of the night, Hamish looks excited already and runs to the kitchen.

"Have it. Let's go" Hamish says, taking his coat and trying to put his arm through the arm of it with the bag in his hand. I laugh and take it from him.

"We don't have to hurry"

"But they might run out of sweets"

"Don't worry, I promise they won't"

We take a taxi to Elizabeth's, and she's outside the door as we pull up. Good, no awkward pleasantries at the door. "Hello, Sherlock" she's tolerable, but I don't particularly like her.

I reply with "Good evening" and watch the children, Hamish is taking animatedly to Emma. They'd hugged as soon as they met, and were now discussing their outfits "You're…a fairy?" Hamish asks, going to Emma's back and running a hand along the wings attached there.

"Yep…you're. Uhm. Solider" she remembers and Hamish smiles.

"Yes. Because my Dada used to be"

"We'll get going shall we?" Elizabeth says and the children walk in front of us. Elizabeth doesn't try to make any conversation, perfectly comfortable in being silent. Actually, I might like her a little.

We get the first house and Emma walks in first, apparently it's a friend of hers. "Remember to say 'Trick or Treat'" Elizabeth whispers and I lean over the children to knock on the door. Hamish leans back against me as he speaks, and they chorus "Trick or Treat" when the door opens. He holds out his bag is still against me, slightly scared. The woman at the door smiles him and greets Emma, dropping small bags of sweets into each of their bags. When we walk back out, Hamish skips a little. "I like this" , and he and Emma talk more, about school.

The rest of the night is the same, easy house calls and not too much interaction from Elizabeth, a companionable silence. The few houses that don't answer I knock a little those that aren't abandoned I don't protest, put pause and write a note from what I'd deduced from their garden or car. Hopefully it will be enough as punishment for inconveniencing Hamish.

We say bye at Elizabeth's door, Hamish asking to stay over. I tell him another night, when he has his pyjamas (he's tired anyway, and he's still not over whatever it is that stops him sleeping when we aren't with him). We agree to do it another time, I'll tell John and they'll arrange to do it another time.

Back home, John comes in just after I'd put Hamish to bed (he'd fallen asleep on the way over) he sits down on the sofa next to me, exhausted. He moves over after a few seconds, resting on my shoulder. I'm just researching a planned experiment, so it can be left for later and doesn't require my full attention. "Did you have a good night?"

"It was bearable. Hamish had a good time. I only let him eat a few things, he's asleep already"

"Good." I put the laptop on the floor and wind my arms around him. "Will you come next year then?"

"Maybe. If I'm not busy, Hai seemed to grow in confidence as we went to each house. I liked seeing that"

"Wish I was there" John yawns and I lean over to kiss him.

"Me too. You always make everything a thousand times more enjoyable" John answers with another kiss and I bring him closer.


	43. Bonfire Night

_**AN: **Seasonalagain. I'm currently doing NaNoWriMo so updates may not be as regular (or irregular, as they aren't. What i meant is, they's likely to be less)_

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Another celebration. How fantastic. Though this one is marginally better than Halloween. Although both have opportunities for burglary and mugging due to everyone being out late, Bonfire Night (or Guy Fawkes Night) has a stronger potential for crime. Arson especially, that's usually fun because of the 'lack of evidence' as the police call it so there's more to do. Then there's how almost everyone will be out of their houses, more than last week even- all together, more reason for fights, then assault which may even lead to manslaughter or more delightfully-murder. The fireworks are usually a great mask for crimes too so a lot of things will be happening tonight, which means I'll be having a brilliant day tomorrow.

Fireworks themselves are also great for experiments. I created my own at fifteen (almost burning down Mycroft's room-I wasn't going to use my own for explosives was I?) but they had a lot of potential. I think in a few years I'll teach Hamish how to make them-John is ridiculously strict about any explosives being near him, he doesn't trust them- I'm sure he'll love it. Anyway, since we can't do that now Hamish is currently in the kitchen with John making toffee apples. Toffee is something else great for experiments, the consistency can be particularly interesting. I got John to make me extra to use on some ants.

Hamish walks in, his face and hands coated in the toffee and jumps onto my lap, knocking the laptop to the side. "Hai! Don't get that all over me!" Hamish grins and kisses my cheek, the toffee on them sticking to my face. I make a noise of annoyance and hear John's laugh from the kitchen "Dad told you to do that didn't he?"

"He says no" Hamish jumps off my lap and goes to the door "Bath now"

"I was busy" I moan, directing the comment at John and stand up. As I walk past, John grabs my arm, then kisses me. He's been eating the warm toffee too, I think that the main reason for that was to irritate me, as my lips are now as sticky as his was. "I hate you"

"Love you too" he answers, and hits my backside as I walk away "Get him clean, he's at my mum's tonight"

"Are you driving up?" I lean against the doorframe, Hamish is back from the bathroom, half undressed and tugging at my hand "Bath now"

"No, they're coming to get him, then they'll bring him back Monday"

"When did you plan this?" he usually tells me further in advance

"You were there when I planned it. Though you were working"

"Fa" Hamish moans, trying to pull me away

"Fine. What are we going to do while he's away?"

John raises his eyebrows and smiles at me, turning around

"You have other plans. Would they involve…"

"Fa. Bath now" I allow Hamish to move me this time, leaving John to ponder my words and start to run the bath, siting by the side. As Hamish gets in and plays, I tell him about waves, demonstrating in the water and explaining the moon's pull. He seems to be listening and at least taking in parts of it. Though, after a while he gets bored and starts splashing me.

John doesn't seem impressed that I showed Hamish the perfect tactic to get as much water out as possible, though I think he did incredibly well. I think I may also have made it worse by coming in soaking wet and hugging him as revenge for the toffee.

Hamish is back earlier than expected, I think he may have tired them out. After the whole issue at school on Mother's Day, he'd wanted to know more about the Bible and 'why it's being silly' so he's likely to have broached that. Also, they took him to second mass and he may have questioned the vicar on the same thing. Which John seems to be embarrassed at but I think shows intellect and good reasoning.

At around 5pm, John starts wrapping Hamish in multiple layers. So many, it takes almost a quater of an hour for him to be done and Hamish can barely walk; he's developed more of a waddle. He doesn't seem to notice though and runs around as usual, excited for the bonfire. He didn't like it last year because John took him somewhere (I was in France, chasing a money launderer who turned out to be trafficking women in from Russia too) that was noisy and crowded and the previous years he had been scared by the noise of the fireworks so I have no idea what's gotten into him this year. It means I have to go out though when we could watch from a window ( as John likes).

I worried about him at first, the noise of the fireworks is a set off for a lot of people's PTSD attacks, but he seemed fine. He seems to have diffrent set offs for his nightmares, they usually come back when he's stressed or when he sees something relating to the war.

At least it won't be the same for Hamish this year. I got Mycroft to arrange him something when he started getting excited, so there's a smallish bonfire on some park and it's only family. "Fire. Fire- sky. Sparkly" Hamish says, remembering the fireworks from New Year's but forgetting the word.

"Fireworks. And do you mean sparklers?"

"Hold firework?" He'd already adapted the word in his head.

"Yes, those are sparklers. I could make you some better ones. Bigger, and you-"

"No." John says, walking towards the door. "Dangerous. Are you ready to go?"

"I could make it totally safe. Yes, we are" I take Hamish's gloved hand (actually, he has two pairs on) and we walk out. Mycroft has a car waiting for us. I would usually protest just to argue with him, but Hamish likes his cars better than taxis. Hamish sits at the window, rather than the middle, because he likes to play with the buttons. Mycroft's car has music controls, a phone service and video conference built in (and other things that aren't in that control panel) and Hamish will continually play with the buttons-he broke something last time which got my brother quite angry, so I encouraged him even more this time. John puts a stop to this unfortunately, pulling his hand away and distracting him.

The car pulls up to a clearing surrounded by trees and the driver opens the doors with a button. "Does Mycroft think he's Bond or something?" John asks and helps Hamish with his belt. I'm about to ask what he's talking about but he shakes his head "A movie reference. One of the biggest movie chains of all time? I showed you one last month. And others before, actually"

"When we were on the sofa, before you got your hair cut and it was a little long?"

"That night. " John confirms and we walk to the pile of kindling, no one's there but I think they'll be in the café on the other side of the trees "I forgot you spent the whole night playing with it"

"I like it like that"

Hamish is at the pile of wood and the attendant Mycroft hired picks up the phone so they'll come back.

"Fire now" Hamish says to him, seemingly knowing his job immediately, that's pretty good for him. I hope not was through deductions and he hadn't just recognised the man from doing other things for Mycroft.

"Wait for the rest of them" John says. There's Mycroft (obviously), Lestrade and Molly walking across to us. Mrs Hudson says that the colds bad for her hip, which is definitely worsening, so she didn't come. Hamish runs to Molly and she picks him up. They seem to have gotten closer since I started taking Hamish to the lab, she'll usually take him out if I need to concentrate or have to do an experiment or those times he insists on coming when we need to be in the mortuary (or at least after she's given us the details).

"Moll!" Hamish exclaims, Mycroft walks off and tells the hired man to set up the fireworks.

"Hi Hamish. You okay?" she puts him down again after a hug.

"Yes, I had lots of toffee and been at Grandma's" he tells her and takes the bag from John's hand- he's busy talking to Lestrade and just smiles then lets him go "Toffee apple, Moll?"

"Yes please. You did these yourself?"

Hamish looks pleased and starts to explain what he did. I go over and lean on John's shoulder (bending a little, but this is still quite nice).

"Hi love. You alright?" John turns his head, and kisses my hair.

"Fine. Bored already." I put my arms around him and we kiss briefly.

"We'll get the fire going. You're all cuddly, that usually means you're upset and trying to shut your brain of or" he whispers, Hamish is still close " you want sex. After last night I wouldn't think…" he trails off when he sees Mycroft watching, he isn't embarrassed but Mycroft has a tendency to repeat these things at the most inconvenient times.

"Neither. Well, always the latter but-" I didn't bother to lower my tone and John shushes me, but Hamish wasn't listening at all so it's completely fine.

Hamish moves back over to us when the fire starts, just in front of John and I, leaning back against us-Molly is on John's right, and my arm is around his waist. We swapped so he's leaning against me, the position a little easier.

"I like it" Hamish says, and sniffs "And the smell" he moves forward a little and John pulls him back again. "Not too close. The fireworks are starting soon too he nods to the rows is rockets in the ground and Hamish settles, then raises his arms to be picked up, already tired.

"Set them off, please" I say and the man nods at Mycroft then begins. Hamish's face lights up and as every firework bursts, he makes a noise of amazement. Both John and I have turned to watching him rather than the aerial display (well, almost both), he's completed amazed and astonished by every single one. It's fantastic.


	44. Experiment

_**AN:** It's been 12 days and I'm already missing writing these (all chapters posted this month were written in perpetration) and I got an awesome request that I can't wait to do. Plus, I think by next month it will be time for a certain development..._

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"No" Hamish has my clay in his hands and is rolling it a ball. The clay is for an experiment, and I need small sections for each repeat-and now Hamish is messing with it.

"I want to play science. Or make things" Hamish says, not putting the clay down.

"Now, Hamish" I warn, and he looks up for a second, analysing my expression. He sees something there which makes him leave the clay on the table and step back.

However, it's all warmed up now and that was the sample I'd set for room temperature-I'll have to wait at least a couple of hours now. "Oh for goodness sake, you know I had to leave this all night for it to be perfect? And I'm going to have to go through it all again because you picked it up. " I would have asked why,but it was obvious. He just wanted to join in, but he also felt like playing and of course he wanted attention. He'd spent most of this afternoon playing in the living room by himself, (John had been there, but he was typing up the last case, talking to Hamish but not playing, so he was probably craving a little interaction).

Though right now, I'm busy, these need to be applied to the clay then put into the freezer, and I have to concentrate. "Go watch TV" I tell him, not looking up from the tweezers and clay.

"Don't want to. Want to help" his voice is whiny.

"This is too intricate, each of these separate granule of dirt need to be put into the clay at specific places. You won't be able to. If you leave me now I'll be able to finish quicker, and then I'll give you today's lesson"

"What?" Lately, even the teacher Hamish had for one to one sessions hadn't been teaching him well enough, and he was even bored of that. And he was always asking about so many things, those things that needed a deeper explanation, that he needed this.

"Well, 15 minutes of violin, some writing-I'll give you new words, and then Biology" The Biology would be the worm farm in the pantry, he'd asked how things get underground when he found a coin (not far enough for the worms to have been the cause, but he'd asked anyway).

"Okay. What I do now?" Hamish moves around the table and stands next to me, hands just on the table, reaching up as he did to get the clay.

"Go play. Leave me alone" I'd usually get John to come and do something to entertain him, but he's doing paperwork for the last case with Lestrade (they seem to have finally accepted that I won't take part and John at least writes factual notes on these). I hear Hamish run off, I'd expected him to walk moodily, but this is normal too, from the noise he threw himself onto the sofa too. From the sound of his landing, and seemingly the way he jumped (though I didn't hear it well enough), he's upset. Doing the same he'll do when he throws a tantrum. He isn't make a noise or shouting though, so it's fine.

I turn back around, focusing again. I'm able to get the sample prepared, put them away, and make some extras for the colder clay, having to leave the section Hamish ruined. Since he's still quiet, I move onto another experiment. I do like teaching him, it's just I've been waiting to this for a while. It's one with bacteria that I need to isolate so this needs to be observed. I'm watching a particularly active section under the microscope when I hear John coming in downstairs. I don't look up when he gets into the flat, the bacteria seem to be reacting differently now, and I need to make notes. I hear him talking to Hamish in the living room, his voice is normal at first, but it gets softer, more concerned. I'm still not going to look up. I'm purposely not taking in his words, putting my mind off of them, blocking things out. I still hear his tone though, and now Hamish-quieter than usual, he sniffs. I hear the sofa creak and John shifts his weight, I think Hamish is in his arms.

I finish up the notes, move the bacteria ready to fit another strain under the microscope, I need to do this all again. I don't have time for this though, because John walks in, Hamish on his hip. I look up. His face is contorted, his lips pressed together. He's mad at me for some reason. I think through the events of the last few days…there's no way he could have found the heart in the airing cupboard? No, he hasn't been up there, he'd have been angry walking in. I look to Hamish instead, his face is in John's shoulder, but his body is slumped, and his arm is across his face; his elbow against John's shoulder, positioned so his eyes are covered by the crook of his elbow. That's it then, I'm in trouble for upsetting Hamish. He didn't throw a tantrum when I said I couldn't play with him, so what is it?

John makes that clear immediately "Why do you have to be so focused? Alright, it's you, you need that. But you've done it again. When you're alone with Hamish, you should give him your full attention. You should leave experiments, you have a lot of time to complete them"

"He was busy when I began"

"I was here then , we were talking" John says, he hadn't said anything about stopping what I was doing when he left. Though he was on the phone.

"You were writing your blog. Not exactly focused. How was what I was doing different?" I spit out, probably a little too defensively.

"Because you told him to 'leave you alone'. Hamish didn't ask me to play, he actually wanted to do something with you. I would have stopped in that case and you know it. He was watching something" That's true, John does always stop when Hamish is talking. He's behind on his posts due to it. Oh, so the 'leave me alone' would have made Hamish feel unwanted, neglected. I can't help a small thrill as this is so advanced for him-the path of thought. But I feel bad too, I didn't want to think that. "Oh, now you get it" John says, watching my face. "You know, for a genius you can be stupid sometimes"

I stand up, holding my arms out to Hamish, whose head had been lifting more and more throughout the conversation, and he was currently looking at me from just under his arm. He puts his arm down, staring at me, reproachful. He doesn't make a move towards me. "I'm sorry Hai. I was being silly, concentrating too much. I should concentrate on you, you're always more important. We can play now"

Hamish doesn't answer then he shakes his head, looking back at John. John gives him an encouraging nod, but Hamish leans back against him. I may have hurt him more than I thought.

Which means I'm going to show him some more emotion"I love you Hamish. Of course I didn't really want you to leave. I just wanted to finish off the experiment. Come here" I got to lift him, but he doesn't want to and shifts closer to John. I've been awful to him, and now he's rejecting me. "Sherlock you're an idiot" John mutters, kissing Hamish's hair when he turns his face away. "Hamish, don't be stubborn. He said he's sorry, you know you want to play" he tickles under Hamish's chin and he giggles.

"I am, Hamish, I will try to make sure that I won't do that to you again. I couldn't face it if you weren't here. I didn't mean it like that" I move around to the way he's facing and he leans over, allowing me to lift him.

I pull him towards me and hug him close, kissing his cheek. "I'm sorry I'm mean sometimes. I don't do it on purpose" thankfully, Hamish stretches his arms in a way of hugging me back, nestling against my shirt. "Don't do it better" Hamish says, and John laughs-I think that's his agreement.

"I'll try." I say, and kiss his forehead. "Now, what do you want to do?" I carry him into the living room and shift his weight to pick something from his box; a jigsaw. He's done it thousands of times but I'll get him to use it without the lid. "We'll do this together. If you want to…." I say, a little unsure. I don't know if he's properly forgiven me yet. Hamish nods and I sit down on the floor, balancing so Hamish will be sat on my knee.

John's at the fridge "No milk. I'll just go get some. Be back soon."

"But you only just got here" I moan, pulling him down closer

"I haven't done with you yet, insensitive git" John puts his coat back on he shouts "Love you" on his way out. He's definitely lying. He won't say anything, he knows I don't mean to be like that. He'll probably think that I've had enough, Hamish's reaction to me at first was awful- I don't want that again, ever.

"Bye Dada. Love you too. And Fa"


	45. Show and Tell

Last night, Hamish came back from nursery constantly talking about 'Show and Tell', and what he would like to bring in. He explained the whole concept to us, then proceeded to do a demonstration of what he wanted to do, using the nearest thing to him-John's laptop. He almost dropped it twice before being told to put it on a cushion. Still, he had no idea what to take. Or rather he did, and they were all things he wouldn't be allowed.

"Can I take you in?" Hamish asked both of us this, apparently not having understood that he had to take in a _thing_ not a person.

"Doctor stuff?" he asks when we explain why he can't take us. John thinks about the request, but then worries too much about his equipment been broken (not by Hamish, but by the other children) and that without those things the presentation won't be interesting enough.

"Science?" he asks me, looking at the table. Considering that all my equipment is glass, there is almost no way he could take it in safely or be able to hold it up to his class without dropping anything. Hamish has to think for a while then, while John moans about Hamish having to this when he's this young, wondering about how different the private sector is again.

I remember having to do something similar, supposedly at Hamish's age, and that the class was really shocked at the dead mouse I had found in the garden though I found it extremely interesting. "We'll have a think, Hai" John says, sitting back against the sofa and pulling Hamish onto his lap.

I mention my own project then, and John gives me an unbeliveving do-not-give-our-son-dead-rodents stare, "Sherlock, no. The diseases"

"A live one then" I reason, Hamish is sat forward now, excited.

"Mouse?" he pleads, and John glares at me. Hamish is always pleading for a pet, any kind, and there isn't a way for us to look after it properly apparently, in case we need to leave for cases or something similar.

"I know about the diseases, I was planning to find him something from Bart's, don't be stupid. And Hai, it depends what they've been using them for. I guess we can look"

John's still frowning, shifting uncomforatbly and repostioning Hamish on his knee. "No pets, no dead animals. Stop it"

Pets are hardly any work, and a mouse we could leave for a week without food and most will conserve their water, besides Mrs Hudson could feed it. However, John's new position is military (he'll sit like that outside of the house, or when he's waiting or something similar, but he's almost always too relaxed to do that at home), screaming authority and stubbornness, as well as telling me that he has good reasoning behind this or he'd back down. "Alright Hai, we'll find something much better. There must be something around here that we can appropriate"

Hamish stands up, wondering around. "Violin?" Hamish picks up his own, the one that used to be mine, stroking across the case.

"They've seen that before, you took it in as soon as you got it, remember?" John leans forward, peering around the room.

"Oh. Yeah" Hamish beds down to his toy box, riffling through it. "Jigsaw?" he pulls a box out, then shakes his head. "No. Dull"

"What about something old, like your first toy?" John gets up then sits on the carpet next to him, looking through the box too.

"No. Boring. He should take in handcuffs and one of the police IDs" I say, taking the one I'd gotten today and handing it to Hamish.

"We're not supposed to have those, Sherlock. He can hardly go parading them around the class."

"It'll be fine, we'll just so he was given them. " I'll go find the box of other items I'd taken, an empty gun holster, a couple of police walkie-talkies, and a bullet proof vest.

"Hmmm, that's alright. I still don't feel comfortable with him having those though" Hamish is passing items to John rapidly now, looking for something. Under his breath, John adds "And we _cannot_ give him the handcuffs we have"

"I am not that bad John, I have two-well five actually- pairs. I wouldn't just give him the ones we-"

"Don't finish that sentence" John warns, Hamish is looking up at us interested.

"We'll settle on the police stuff then. Unless we find something better." John says, then gets up to get the box with everything else in from our room. John comes back with the box and lays in front of Hamish, sifting through it.

"God Sherlock, how many of the IDs do you have now?"

"One hundred and thirty six. I threw them all away two years ago, there were too many. I've probably taken almost five hundred over all the cases. Lestrade is annoying all the time."

"And he hasn't found any way to stop you?"

"He tried, but failed a every time." I get off the sofa and shuffle over to them. "There's an old magnifier in there too. But I think I've thought of something better"

"What?" Hamish and John say together. Hamish has stopped looking now, seemingly not finding anything.

"Your old army things, John. Especially the medal."

"I don't know...a three year old, even one at Hai's level, explaining war to a group of other three years olds. Might not be a good idea."

"He wouldn't have to explain the war, John. Just you, and what a solider does. He knows that anyway." John fiddles with one of the cars Hamish had placed in his lap. "Hai loves talking about that. You know how much he boasted to everyone when you first showed him your medal". That had made John smile- a lot. He's told Hamish about the ceremony and what he did for the medal, and Hamish had wanted to know everything, more about his time in the war, then relayed the story to almost everyone we met, extremely proud of his Dad.

"Please Dada?" Hamish asks, catching on. He's always asking to look at John's army gear, the backpack, the canteen all of the little things.

John's blushing now, he's probably afraid of the questions he'll get from the teachers, the one's who'll question whatever story Hamish tells, or even the parents if their children tell them about it.

"You know what would be really interesting?" John shoves all the toys he's had on his knees back into the box in one go. "If he took your skull" he gets up and picks it off the mantelpiece. He doesn't even usually allow Hamish to touch it. (though he does, Hamish can name all the teeth thanks to that). He's just trying to get himself out of any questions.

"It'll get broken, and I don't think the teachers will appreciate it. Much like the reaction for the mouse corpse." I take the skull back off of him, patting the top as I place it back on the shelf.

"You're very protective of that, I knew you wouldn't"

"I _would_. If we didn't have a better idea, which we do."

"I want army stuff" Hamish interrupts, and I put a hand on his shoulder.

"See, he wants that. He should make the final decision. It's his presentation, his choice."

John sighs and sits down again. "Fine, fine. But you know that if the mothers get told they'll all be cooing around me for ages." And probably flirting too. But it won't be too bad, seen as John knows most of their partners.

Hamish is ready for nursery with his usual bag, but he has the small box with John's medal in his hands, and I have a bag of the rest of things he'd chosen to take. John's not at work today, he has to go and do paperwork at the Yard later, so we're both taking Hamish to school. (me really because I'm hoping Hamish will get the medal out early, waiting to go into the building, showing off about John to everyone).

Unfortunately, the roads are slippery so we get stuck in traffic and Hamish ends up being late, so no chatting mothers in the playground that I can boast- or Hamish can, I mean.

We watch him walk into the main nursery room, sitting on the carpet and waiting for the register to be taken, medal still in his hands (he'd refused to give it to the teacher for safekeeping as we'd suggested, but she was watching him) he waves to us and we turn away.

John had picked Hamish up alone, I was planning to go put there had been an unexpected reaction in one of the experiments I was running at Bart's, so he went alone. I knew that I'd be 'told off' (playfully, just John being humble) when I got home, but I hadn't expected the texts.

**They're asking me about getting shot. Had to make excuses up to leave. **

Then, a few minutes later

**Thanks, by the way. Now they're all going to give me that pitying thing.**

And vibrating in my pocket just as I was at a crucial stage of balancing out a reaction

**If the mothers are like this tomorrow, I'm going to kill you. **

I only looked at these when I'd done with the experiment, and laughed at his increased annoyance. John thinks that they pity him, which they do in a way, at least for getting shot. But he doesn't see the admiration, or he chooses not to. He doesn't think he deserves it so he ignores it. Even Hamish telling him doesn't seem to work.

Back home, I hug him as soon as I get through the door, knowing he'll have wound himself up into a state, thinking the whole nursery now pities him. "Don't get like this. Don't even think about them if that helps" we kiss, then curl up on the sofa, Hamish on the floor playing. He still has the medal, the box next to him.

"He doesn't want to give that up. He'll open the box every now and then, take it out sometimes" John says in my ear, not wanting to put Hamish off.

"That's because he loves it. He's proud, John. Most three year olds don't even understand that emotion. Accept it"


	46. Injury

"Hamish is here. Are we letting him in?" I ask, moving to the door. John lifts his head from the pillow to look out of the window and winces. "No, not until they stich me up. It looks too gory"

"It's not like it's going to hurt him. He sees pictures all the time of our crime scenes"

"No, I take those down when he's around. You just don't pay attention. You have an eidetic memory, it hardly makes a difference"

I walk back over to his bed, he probably didn't really need to be in one, but they needed his legs to be elevated so he didn't faint. I put my hand over his on the bandages pressed to his head and kiss the opposite side of his face "Okay." I pop my head out of the door. "Hi! Hamish, can you go get us some sweets and maybe coffees…there's a vending machine down the corridor" I hand Mrs Hudson the money and shake my head at her, and she walks off with Hamish.

I go back to John's bedside, sitting on the chair next to him. "How long is this going to take?" I ask, throwing my head back

"I'm surprised Mycroft hasn't set something up yet. And they usually see me faster when they learn of my profession"

"He does. He just knows you'll be fine and that this will make it worse for me"

"That's terrible. Is it because of all those cakes you sent him which caused him to break his diet?"

"Yes. Actually, do you think you'll be alright if I go get someone? I'm sure I can persuade them to get to you next"

"I've had much worse than this" John smiles.

"Yes but that wasn't my fault". John had been hit with a bat after we'd been trying to catch a killer with a cricket obsession-hardly an inventive weapon. The thing was, I'd been closer to his swing than John; he's come from behind and I was bent over inspecting am aglet that was definitly from his show. John had seen him-well I had sensed him too but was focusing too much, I could have still moved in time- but John had leaned over me, trying to push me out of the way,and gotten himself hit. We'd been here for over an hour and gotten into a room just under 15 minutes ago (mainly due to my deducting of all the staff and then the patients, sending a nurse into a huff until she got a doctor).

Mrs Hudson had wanted to come, she likes looking after people and even though this was out of her way she'd wanted to see John. And because of the concussion risk and a problem that apparently has a high likelihood of occurring because of where he was hit, they're keeping him overnight for observation so she brought some things for him with her. She had Hamish with her because no one (well, no one Hamish liked) could come on such short notice. Then there's how he finds it hard to sleep without both of us around and senses a tense envrionemnt or any worry usually makes him worse. Which is why he had to see John now, if only breifly. It will be better for him, hopefully.

I lean over John, and press the button to vall a nurse "What the hell, Sherlock? I don't need a nurse. I can wait" John turns as I pull back from the button, and he tries to make his exspression blank. Even that slight movement hurt him, but he wants to hide it, is trying to forget it. "You're in pain, need medication and this is dull. I think that's enough to warrent a nurse"

John laughs, then groans "You're calling a nurse because you're bored? God Sherlock, that's hilarious. And so you"

'So me?' I think the blood loss is making him delerious, of course everything I say is 'me'. "I'm calling a nurse because you're in more pain than you let in at the reception desk, though it would have gotten you fixed faster"

"People need doctors more than I do" John's voice is calm, no note of bravery or forced selflessness, and him doing that on purpose to look saintly as a lot of people would. No, John really believes it. He doesn't rate his pain as high as anyone else's, always trying to put everyone else before him. John's always been like that, wanting to help everyone in any way he could. It's why he became a doctor, why he went into the army.

"You need to get better, John. You're not going to sit here in pain just so some fat old woman can get her leg fixed after falling over her cat on the wasy for her fifth bar of chocolate"

"What? The woman in red?" he asks, recognising the injury "How the hell did you know it was-"

The nurse rushes in then, red faced- aprrently she'd been running. Good, her reaction time was too long anyway. I alter my expression, making sure I look deeply concerned (well, I was worried but I need to overplay it), I even tear up a little and grip John's hand in both of mine. John's looking at me in disbelief, but thankfully it's enough so it could be interrpreted at pain or something similar "My husband is in a lot of pain. I hate seeing him like this. Hate it. I want him to feel a little better. He won't even tell you because he doesn't want to trouble you. But he needs this. Look at him. It's awful, I can't stand it. Please" I look up at her, and she nods. "Thank you" I bend over John, as if praying "And bless you" I add, the cross around her neck and her hairline show she's a devout Christian, so that part at the end was just a way to speed her up a little.

John gives me a strange look "Did you really just-", he's cut off when the doctor appears. "So, Nurse Jefferson here says you're pain level is increasing. I'll just take a look at your..." He trails off, taking the compress from John's head and examining the wound. Jonhn winces, biting his lip to surpress a groan when the doctor wipes over his cut with the bandage. "I'll numb it" he takes a needle from the nurse.

"Then give me stiches" John finsihes, then sits up.

"Yes. Oh, of course. You're a doctor." He checks John's chart and then puts a differnt pair of gloves on "I don't need to explain that this only requires the disolveable ones then" John smiles at him and then turns away, angling his head so he can be given the injection close to the temple. I move around the bed to speak to him "John, if your head doesn't hurt too much, do you think it yould be safe for us to-"

"Do you not know the meaning of the word 'appropriate'? Not now, Sherlock" John curses as the needle is injected, but is still giving me a disaproving look

"So we can? Good, you looked so incredibly h-"

"Stop it" John warns, the doctor and nurse are both stifling laughs.

The doctor begins stitching, he probably should have told John before he began, but John doesn't seem to notice, he can't feel it.

"But John. You save my life today-again- you don't know how-"

"I swear to god, if you do not stop talking, you will be sat here being stitched up with me" John tries to make his tone sound threatening, but he sounds more despairing. He isn't really annoyed with me and is currently supressing a smile.

"Now who isn't being appropriate? Threats of GBH in front of two medical professionals…bit not good."

John laughs, his head moving a little so that the doctor holds it to keep him in place "I think they'd turn a blind eye, they know how bad you're being"

The doctor ties off the stiches and steps back

"Am I really 'bad' then John? Do you-"

"Sherlock! Please just stop with this." John says, and turns to the doctor who's started talking to him

"Here." He holds out his hand, a couple of pills in a small packet in his palm "Take these, they'll help with the pain" the nurse hands him a cup of water and he takes the pills together.

I turn around as he starts discussing how he's feeling, sop the doctor can assess him. Hamish and Mrs Hudson are at the door, she has coffees in her hands and Hamish is carrying sweets and a bottle of juice. I walk over and slip out of the door "Fa. Where's Dada? What happened? Can I see him?" I thought Mrs Hudson to explain, but she seems to have left it all to me. I take the coffee and thank her, it's probably better that I explain anyway. The doctor walks out then and I see John lie down through the window in the door. "He's in here. It's okay, he'll tell you" I pick Hamish up, passing the coffee back. It was really ridiculous that I'd taken it at all, I don't know if I even want it, it'll taste disgusting.

I push the door open with my body and walk in. "Dada!" Hamish squeals and jumps on the bed as we get near, he hugs John straight away. "Hi bud. You alright?"

"Silly. I'm okay, it's you. You have a poorly head" Hamish is stood up on the bed, peering at the stitched cut "Why does your head have sewing?" John laughs and Mrs Hudson sits in the chair beside the bed, and I sit down on the end of it.

"It's being stiched together. It'll come out in a few days and it'll mean I'm better" he pulls Hamish onto his lap and kisses him "But I have to stay here for tonight, in case I'm poorly. You'll be okay won't you?"

"Is Fa too?"

"No, he'll make you tea and put you to bed. Then you can both come back in the morning and we'll go home together" I wasn't sure whether to stay with John or not. Mrs Hudson could have had Hamish but John was right with this way round. I know he wont sleep though, too many memories in hospitals, though he never worked in one like this, so I'll just text him the whole time.

"Oh. I wanted you to go home though. What did you do?" Hamish plays with the buttons on John's shirt, leaning back against his chest.

"One of the bad men that we were trying to catch hit me. He's in prison now though" John explains, the tension in his face is lessening, the pills he was given must have started working.

"He got hurt because he was protecting me. Even though I could have saved myself." Maybe the brute would have been too quick, his swipe at John, looking at the angle and time it took did appear a few seconds faster that I predicted, and the angles also want I would have been hit a lot harder, knocked unconscious. Maybe he was right in a way to do it, even though I'd rather he not be in pain. John shakes his head at me "I'm sorry. Thank you" I say, shuffling up so I'm closer to John and kiss his cheek.

"Don't keep apologising, it's not going to change everything" John lays back, Hamish still leant against him.

"John? Are you sleepy? Sit up, you can't go to sleep" John laughs and shifts in the bed then moves over. "No, don't worry. It isn't concussion. My head it throbbing and this eases it a little, lay here with us" I lay back next to him and his arm is around me.

"You boys are so sweet. I'll go now" Mrs Hudson mutters. John looks started when she speaks, as if he's forgotten she was here, but John never does that. It must be an effect of the drugs they've given him. He props himself up on an elbow "Sorry. No, wait for Sherlock. Visiting hours are over in twenty minutes."

"Fine, but I'll leave you to talk alone, I have a friend upstairs who's getting her hip replaced. I'll meet you outside then, Sherlock dear" she touches my shoulder as she leaves and Hamish waves.

Hamish is still laid against John and is now looking over his shoulder and examining the dormant heart monitor. "What's this?" John turn and points at parts of the monitor, explaining it. We talk for a while and John becomes more relaxed, the pills obviously fully working he's laughing more than usual too, I think they must be quite strong. Then it's time to go "Dada can't I stay here with you?" Hamish asks when I lift him off the bed.

"No no. You wouldn't sleep. Just until tomorrow morning, you'll barely miss me" Hamish grumbles at this and I share his sentiment. "Bye" he kisses Hamish's head and I lean over to kiss him and he grabs me for a quick hug. He hates being the patient.

We say bye again when we walk out of the door, and John is still smiling as we leave. I text him as soon as we're out of the door of the hospital, Hamish is in my arms he's been dragging his feet behind me- he's still a little upset. Mrs Hudson was just at the reception door and we get in a taxi almost immediately. When we're inside, Hamish undoes his seatbelt buckle and hits on my lap (I refasten the belt around both of us) and leans against me. He's likely to be in this mood all night, he always misses John a lot, I'll have to distract him to get him to sleep at all.

"Hai, do you want to sleep downstairs with me?" I ask lightly, stroking his hair in an effort to calm him.

"Big bed? Yes" he smiles, he's always coming down to sleep there with us. It'll be nice too, I wont feel as bad as I do when John isn't there, In fact I never sleep if he's away, usually at the table busy all night.


	47. Christmas

_**AN:** Sorry I haven;t updated in so long. I've had problems with my computer and I had to find a new Beta (who has been really busy, as you will be able to tell, this hasn't been Beta'd due to that). The chapter I planned on putting here- your next one- is pretty long, so I hope that makes up for it a little. Merry Christmas._

* * *

"That Santa's different. I don't understand" we're in the shopping centre, passing Santa's Grotto in the middle of the isle of shops. Hamish had seen Santa with John in the town centre a few days ago, so this confused him. We were here because I was checking the queues, seeing how much longer it takes during peak times (an alibi of a cold case I found depends on it). Hamish had wanted to come along then John had decided we should make something of it, having a meal afterwards.

"That's because he is a different person"

"Santa's two people?" Hamish asks, wide eyed.

"There in fact thousands of 'Santas' all over the world"

_"What?" _

"What Father means, Hamish, is Santa has some helpers. He can't be away from the North Pole so close to Christmas can he? The elves would worry, and they have enough work to do. So people like that man here come to help out, so all the children can be happy. But he gives each of them some magic, so they can get the presents and will tell the real Santa what they want" I laugh, John's really good at making this stuff up.

"So his beard is fake?"

"Very good. Can you see the straps?" I kneel down, pointing to them. Hamish nods and smiles, proud to know something more than the other children (there were some much older than him in the queue).

Christmas Eve. Hamish is in bed and John has forced me to help him wrap presents. "Crap, Sherlock. Did you hear him? Don't let him come in here" there had been footsteps overhead, and now the stairs were creaking.

I step out and find Hamish sat at the doorway, waiting, perfectly still.

"What are you doing?" Hamish jumps when he sees me, and stands up, about to run. "Stay there." He stops and I walk over, taking his hand "You're waiting for the real Santa" I realise, and sit down next to him. Hamish nods. "Okay, we'll wait together. Just come to the sofa and we'll get a blanket, I don't want you getting cold" He'd had his arms wrapped around himself; he's been out of bed for a while. I hug him for a second (testing a little how cold he actually was), then walk off to the bedroom.

There's no way Hamish won't be able to stay up for more than an hour-making it 10pm- so we'll still have time to finish wrapping. Hai throws himself on the sofa, waiting as I go to get a blanket I explain everything to John and he sighs, and then walks out.

"Hai, you know Santa doesn't come if you're awake" he drops the blanket over Hamish in the sofa, which he pulls up to his chin.

_"_I'll_ pretend"_

"Okay, okay. Not my fault if you don't get any presents though" Hamish whines at this and John tickles him. "If you can stay up" Hai sits up, getting ready.

"Do you want to back in and…"I ask, I thought John may have insisted on wrapping the rest of the presents now while I stayed with Hamish. Or hoped.

"No, we'll still have enough time. Unless you want to yourself"

"No"

"What are you talking about?" Hamish sounds frustrated.

"Nothing. Want some hot chocolate?" John walks off before waiting for an answer.

"Will I really not get anything if I stay up?"

"Well, we'll see. I'm sure you'll get something no matter what"

"Okay" Hamish mutters. So stubbornly having sat up before wriggles down, resting his head on my knee. I move a cushion so he's comfortable. It isn't him pretending to sleep because he usually makes fake snoring noises if her ever does that.

Hamish isn't even halfway through his mug of hot chocolate when he falls asleep again.

"Take him upstairs?" John whispers, rearranging the blanket. I lift him and walk out, John tidying away the mugs. Hamish wakes a little when I move him, muttering something unintelligible and closing his eyes again. From our room, I hear bells-John must be back to wrapping, I tuck Hamish into his bed, watching him for a second before joining John to wrap more presents. There are probably too many again.

"Did he hear the bells? Think it was Santa?"

"He was partially awake, so most likely" John grins and passes me a game of Frustration.

"Come on, we have less time to finish all this now"

Hamish jumps on the bed, landing on my stomach "Ow"

"It's Christmas!" he yells, moving off of me and bouncing.

"Obviously"

"Has Santa been?" John asks lightly, swinging his legs out of the bed

"Lots of presents" Hamish is stood now, jumping higher.

"Give me a sec and we'll go open them" he leaves for the bathroom and I pull Hamish down, pulling him close.

"Did you look at the presents much? Do you know what any are?"

"No because you need to get up for me to open them. One was a ball that was easy."

"Hmm. I think you spent a little longer in there than needed, just looking. You know more right?"

"Lots of boxes. There were some teddies or clothes-all squishy"

"Good" I stand up when John comes back in, Hamish jumping off the bed and running in front of us "He looked at everything. Still didn't open them, kept his promise on that"

"I know. And you praised him for it" John rolls his eyes and sits down on the floor, Hamish already opening his first present. "Hai, come sit with me" he pulls Hamish onto his lap. Hai doesn't respond, instead too absorbed in the magic set in front of him. "Does this have a rabbit in?"

"No, that might hurt it. We'll see about bigger tricks when you're done with these"

"Can I play now?" Hamish attempts to open the box.

"What about your others?" John encourages, lightly taking it from him.

"Especially this one" I hand him a larger box. Against John's advice ('he's too young. He'll break it' 'he won't use it properly, he'll stick something in and it'll be ruined')

"What is it? How do you know what it is?"

"You know I can figure anything out" I smile and Hamish rips the paper with no care for how long it took to wrap (the edges had to be perfectly straight, each piece of sellotape carefully measured).

"Oh!" Hamish gasps. "Microscope. Like yours" He's careful with the box, turning each side and looking at the pictures.

"You'll have to be really good with that. Only play at the table, ask Father what you can look at" Hamish makes a sound of agreement, not paying attention. He's attempting to read the box.

"Come on. We have to leave in 2 hours" We're going to John's parents for an hour before travelling to Mycroft's for dinner with my family. "You won't be done at this rate. Look at all this stuff" He's right, the presents litter the room, most from us (almost fifty, John kept saying we'd gone overboard. One trip each and two together, though most were inexpensive and small in size) plus from Mycroft, Harry and Clara, Mrs Hudson, Molly, Lestrade, a few of John's closest friends and a couple of Hamish's school friends and both sets of grandparents.

"I must have been really good." Hamish muses, setting on one of the 'squishy' parcels- this one a teddy.

"Of course"

"Mostly" John says, reaching to tickle him.

"I am" Hamish says indignantly, then reaching further for more gifts. "Oh" Hamish leaps up, remembering something and runs upstairs

"Hamish, what are you doing?" He can't hear but it only takes him a few minutes to run back down.

"Present for you" He hands us both a present messily wrapped in potato print paper. He'd made it himself.

"You decorated the paper yourself?" John asks, slipping a finger under so he doesn't tear anything. Hai nods "I'll keep it then"

"You made this at school?" I ask before its open. "You got it home well" I hadn't even realised hel had brought anything, or that there was something hidden in his room. He must have done that when I wasn't at home.

"This is gorgeous" John mutters. It was a clay picture frame, painted and covered in glitter, inside there was a picture of the three of us, taken a couple of weeks ago in the park.

"Mrs Hudson helped?" I wondered why she's wanted the camera (and then asked how to put pictures onto the laptop and to print them off) this should have been obvious.

"You like it too Fa?"

"It's nice. You took time to make it, which is always better"

"Good" Hamish sits back down, in between us this time. John hugs him and pulls me over.

"Merry Christmas" He kisses me before letting go, Hamish's arm already reaching away for the next present.


	48. Spy

_**AN: **So, I'm sorry there haven't been any updates in so long, I've had issues with finding a Beta. The updates will now be back to once a week. Thank you, if you're reading this now, for coming back to this little story after such a long time. This chapter is based on a prompt from_ **StarMaya**; _I'm sorry this took so long, and I hope it's food enough, thank you. _**  
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Mycroft is a complete idiot, but that's hardly news. He let a double agent into his secret service (or whatever he calls it. Something more anonymous). He knows this, but he doesn't know who. He can't ask anyone or do anything in his usual manner, he doesn't trust any of them for this.

So he's trying to convince me. "No, Mycroft."

"I'll leave you alone, no visits, for a whole month."

"And no cameras, no watching?"

"You do test me, brother." he sighs, rubbing his face. Late night too, this thing's bothering him. He sighs. "Fine"

"Good."

"So you'll do it?"

"No."

"Sherlock…" John walks in then, a sleeping Hamish in his arms. "Hello, John."

"Hi," John whispers, shifting Hamish. "Sherlock? I have the shopping in a cab downstairs. Take him up to bed please?" Mrs Hudson's out or she would have helped, and…John's phone is out of battery. I stand up, taking Hamish from him.

"Thanks," he runs off.

"Shame if John found out about the time you did the sleeping experiment on him. With the acids."

"One, they were citric acids. Two, he already knows. And three will you please shut up before Hamish wakes up?" Mycroft sits back down; he'd gotten up to follow me upstairs but has decided on the patient act. Obviously, I take advantage of this and reorganise Hamish's room-his clothes and toys are now all properly indexed- and managed to put Hamish in pyjamas without awaking him.

I hear John talking before I decide to leave the room. He'll make Mycroft go away.

"Sherlock, why aren't you taking this case? It's a matter of national importance," John starts speaking as soons as I enter the room. Oh god, Mycroft's gone for the whole Queen and Country route, probably said it was a threat to the armed forces and now John's on his side. Fantastic.

"I don't want to. It's boring."

"Then you'll get it done quickly. Look at the files." John hands me a brown envelope and I turn it over, but don't look inside. "Please? This is going to affect something important to me." I look over to Mycroft, who's smirking in the corner.

I sigh and turn to him. "On two conditions. This is for John, even if I don't know why he needs this so badly. And secondly, you will stay away for three months- no cases, no visits, and no calls."

"Sherlock, you're being harsh. Hamish likes seeing him."

"Fine. Just make sure when you visit, you don't do anything annoying. It would also mean that you don't force any cases on me for six months."

"I can't agree to that. I don't know what-"

"No." I turn away from him, going to the kitchen to see of John's bought more milk so I can do more of the bacteria experiment.

"Sherlock," John warns, but then turns to Mycroft "You know he's stubborn, so giving in on this-pretty much letting you 'win' is a big step. Just take it, will you?"

"Are you leaving now?" I interrupt; if he's not willing he has no reason to be here. Not that I wanted him here in the first place.

"Yes. Yes to your negation, too." Mycroft sighs, standing up.

"I'll get this over with quickly. Leave the files on the table." I turn to the cooker, pouring the milk into a pan.

So this is a little more interesting than I expected. It seems that a lot of Mycroft's agents are up to something else. Not what he would deem as 'a threat to the country', but I see that he has a lot of people with criminal pasts. Computer hackers, mafia bosses, many thieves (those that stole high profile items, getting past many security systems) and a lot of them also had previous army training and or experience, but had been recruited into this section of the government.

Anyway, that all makes it harder to find the 'rat' which means I have to do more on this case than I thought. I have it narrowed down from the group of twenty that Mycroft gave me to three and I'm going to have to get closer to them. '

So I set off to the soft play centre, Hamish holding onto me and John having taken a cab so he's already there. We're not planning to do anything to try to capture the guy-if it is the right one- I just need further observation, a conversation. John won't speak to me, and we've told Hamish not to go up to him ('you're helping us catch the criminal, you have to be good. Dad has other things he needs to do, and the bad man can't see him' Hamish had agreed and been pretty excited by the concept of helping in our work). John disagreed at first, worried that the man would be dangerous-of course he is- but Mycroft had managed to get metal detectors into the soft play area's entrance, so if the man had any weapon it would be found. John would be outside, looking for the car (he had the license plate number, and would be checking for modifications) then he'd be there just in case something went really wrong. One, to get Hamish away (yes, dangerous but how else would we get in here? We need the suspect at his most vulnerable, and a state where he has something/someone to protect too) and two, he wouldn't let me do it without him (or that I need him, but I don't say that out loud).

"Fa, can I go play or do you need help fighting the baddie?" I look down at Hamish, he'd been unusually quiet and I'd been able to order my thoughts. Everything was planned, and the chance of everything going wrong was small.

He's so serious I hold back a grin, "No, no. It won't go that badly. We're not fighting today, you're fine to play." Hamish nods then drops my hand to skip ahead. The street is busy, so I have to shout him back after a few seconds. He doesn't hear me-or he isn't listening.

"Hamish! Get back here now." I can't threaten to take him home because of the case, and he knows that. "Hamish..." he turns the corner so I can't properly see him and I break into a run. This is going to make it seem more like a game. Fantastic.

I push back a foul smelling woman (drenched in perfume to cover she hadn't showered- she was having an affair and hadn't been home) I think this without taking my eyes of Hamish, pushing past an old man and reaching for his arm.

"Fa hi." Hamish is playing dumb, he probably has a whole fantasy in his head.

"Don't run away. You know that you have to stay with us. Why didn't you come back when I called you?" I'm bent down in front of him, some technique John had seen on telly.

"I forgot. Sorry."

"Don't do that again or you'll have no TV for a week."

I stand up then, walking backwards. Hamish just smiles at me, not bothered by the threat.

"Or books." Hamish can read all of the books in his class, and mostly reads children's fiction, though John found him reading one of his medical books two days ago (though he couldn't read them, he apparently liked the big words).

"Fa." Hamish moans as we cross a road.

"You know you have to listen to me. You know how you're expected to behave and any consequences if you don't. You're smart enough for that."

"I was having fun," Hamish sounds upset, so he must have listened to me.

"It doesn't mean you don't have to listen to me." Hamish nods and we turn walk a little more, finally at the soft play area.

John's in the car park as we agreed, trying to nonchalant as he breaks into a car (I taught him a while ago how to pick car locks. He knew normal doors already). He doesn't look up and Hamish starts to shout him then remembers himself. "Good" We walk through the doors (more security cameras installed too) and sign something, then pay from Hamish's admittance.

"Go play," I wave him off, surveying the room. He doesn't move. "Go. I have work to do"

"I don't want to."

"Hai, please. You love it here." He's there-the rat, Joseph Clarke. Sat at a table with an empty plastic jug and two pairs of children's shoes on top. A woman's bag too. His wife must be with him.

"But I usually have friends."

"Want a drink?" I ask as I see the spy gets up and heads towards the counter.

"'Kay." Hamish follows me to the counter, bouncing a little.

I walk up, getting there just before Joseph Clarke, and wait behind a very red woman holding a screaming baby.

"Can I have Fanta?"

"Juice."

"But-"

"No arguments" he's here, just behind me. I step back, as if turning to lift Hamish to see the counter and bump into him. "Sorry sir I didn't mean to-"

"Fa can I have chocolate?"

"Go and choose from the machine." I hand him some coins from my pocket before realising he wouldn't know how to work it. He'll figure it out…

"It's quite alright." Plummy tone. Well educated, that fits with the file. Tired-could be from foreign communications but most likely the children. Yes, he's wearing the same shirt from yesterday the stains and crinkles make that obvious. Tan suggests he was outside when he last went abroad (a few weeks ago, the travelling is one of Mycroft's criteria for his file) spent a lot of time outside, most likely shirtless. So no indoor work. No expensive clothing. His body language is pretty controlled too. Useless with computers, seen from the callous on his finger on his right hand, something that usually reduces after school-must handwrites a lot. No. Not him. Better be through.

"No, really I must have hurt your foot. Let me pay for your order."

"It's fine. You don't need to do that at all." Kind tone. Not faking that-it's not even his training. Good.

Hamish comes back over, a bag of Revels in his hand.

"You don't like those," I take them from him and he hands me a couple of coins.

"A lady helped me because I didn't know what to do and these looked pretty. I like orange"

"You don't like them because you had a coffee one. You spat it out on me." Hamish laughs then and just shrugs, taking his sweets back and opening them. Joseph Clarke who isn't actually the rat is behind me, tapping his foot and I see that I'm supposed to have moved forward. I order two coffees and Hamish's juice (I'll text John in a second) then go sit down.

"Will you go play at all?" I take the phone out and tell John to come in.

"Can't you come with me?"

"It's almost physically impossible for me to fit down the sectioned slide, or the gap in those stairs" (the kind with a few steps, a platform, and then more steps) "or that tunnel. So no, sorry"

"Please?" Hamish sits down in a chair opposite me and I try to think of what John would say

"You could make new friends" That sounds right, very normal, yes good.

"'Kay" Hamish says and wonders off. John's at the reception but some woman is arguing with him, she doesn't believe he's here for Hamish and thinks he's a paedophile. Seeing that Hamish is safely in the play area, I walk over to explain-John had been gesturing towards me for a while.

"Let my husband in, you saw the boy I came in with. He's his Dad." The woman smiles strangely and I return the gesture, but John shakes his head as he comes through the gate.

"Patronising, Sherlock."

"I was being nice"

"That's fine. That kind of smile…puts people off. And she was giving us that weird 'I'm totally okay with all this you just surprised me look'? You know?"

"Hmmm?"

"Doesn't matter" John says and sits down. Hamish comes running up straight away, looking confused.

"I need a wee." Then he steps closer, whispering in my ear "Can I talk to Dada now?"

"Yes Hai, that's fine. Come with me." I stand up waiting. I really need to get on with finding the other two suspects, but John hates it when I go alone and Hamish is never going to leave here. I'll wait twenty minutes then order that we leave.

"Hi Dada." Hamish jumps up, giving John a hug, and then follows me to the toilets.

It's 10pm and Hamish is asleep in bed, Mrs Hudson in the apartment with him (he doesn't know we've left) and we're waiting at a café for the second man. I sit at a table in the front, John at the back. This isn't going to be the same as last time and I know that I'm going to have to flirt. I considered telling John, making sure he agrees to this but he would probably make me change tactics. I just told him that I'd arranged it as a meeting.

"Hello, Van Bork" He refused to tell me his full name, and though I know it I shouldn't use it. Not unless I want him to worry. He's shaking a little. Nervous. He's in Mycroft's 'special force' this is put on.

"Sherlock, yes. I have the products you asked for." He imports laptops and tablets from abroad, Mycroft lets him off for it due to his other abilities. He goes aboard a lot, have a lot of conversations through the night. Again, he's tired, but no children, no disturbances-he has an apartment in a very sought after building. His clothes- expensive. Went out with a man he's only vaguely met before for lunch. He's definitely closer.

"You look very good." I don't glance over to John, but the café is quiet and I hear him grumble to himself.

"Thank you. You're pretty gorgeous yourself." he takes opens a briefcase and tries to get me to buy one of his phones but I shake my head. "I've gone back on the laptop too. Just the Ipad, please"

"Such a shame." Flirting back. To make the sale? No, he's leaning forward, wetting his lips.

"Well, maybe it means I'll have to see you again, Van Bork," I hand him the money and he grins, grapping my hand and holding onto it. I have to hold back a grimace, as far as contact goes, this couldn't be any worse. His hands are clammy. I avoid wiping my hand when I bring it away, squeezing his fingers as I pull it back. So, this flirting is definitely real. His pulse was quickened, his pupils are even dilated. Interesting.

He's not in any relationship, not that that would stop him, he's cheated on his last three partners. Not trustworthy, even better at hiding himself that the rest of MI6 or whatever Mycroft's controlling now. He has a weapon too. I think it's him. I glance at John, who raises his eyebrows and give a minute nod. He stands up, and at the same moment my phone rings.

No one would be calling. Mycroft knows what I'm doing, Lestrade or Molly would text. Mrs Hudson? She'd get John right? Wait. He doesn't have his phone- I notice this as I look him over, worried

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Van Bork drawls. He's putting that on, he sounds a little excited if anything.

"Give me a minute." I step away, John's in the corner so it doesn't even look as I'm near him.

"Mrs Hudson?"

"Sherlock." she's whispering, agitated, shaking. "Get home now" I can hear Hamish crying. He hardly ever cries.

"Why? What is it? I'm busy, you know."

"Now Sherlock!" Very authoritative. Very unusual. There's something wrong.

"But I need to finish-" I'm cut off as she hangs up with a slight yelp. Oh god. I'll send John, its fine.

That yelp? Her tone? Is she really in danger? What if something's happening there and I send John back but he can't do anything. No. It's Mrs Hudson. Hamish was upset. I have to go. This guy is promising, but I've already told him I want to meet again. Decided, home then I'll call him again-make myself seem eager. Good.

I whisper John's name out of the corner of my mouth-he'd been watching me anyway- and go towards the bathroom. Van Bork is playing on his own phone, seemingly absorbed (a video game addict as a child, not addicted to the apps on his phone).

"John. It's Mrs Hudson she sounds….she might be in danger."

"And Hamish?" John's leaning against the door, already halfway out

"I could only hear him crying"

"Oh god. We have to go now, come on." he pulls at my arm

"Let me tell him and we'll leave. You go first."

"You're still worried about that? For f***k's sake Sherlock. There could be a murderer in our flat. With our son."

"Leave now." I instruct and John goes, running.

"So sorry. I've been informed of a family disaster" True "I have to leave now"

"We were having so much fun."

"I know. I'll call you."

I smile then run out, John is waiting, already having run out (we were quite close to the flat anyway) so I push myself to my body's optimums, and can see him just in front as I turn into the next street.

A few roads later, we're running together and John's swearing (possibly at me) under his breath. We're at the flat, and the downstairs door is flung open. In haste, no marks-not kicked in. John barrels up the stairs. I hear Hamish yell something and then a man's shout. Middle aged but fit. Smoker. Heavy built but possibly due to muscle.

"Sherlock, stay there," John warns, standing in the doorway. I step closer, looking over his head.

The man-definitely muscled- has a gun and is flitting between Hamish and Mrs Hudson (he's hiding his face under her cardigan and she's holding on to him very tightly). John moves himself as soon as the man doesn't shoot, placing himself in front of Hamish. He doesn't have his gun. More metal detectors at the café, again for the supposed spy to protect us. We couldn't disguise it so we'd had to play it differently. Not that we expected anything to happen. Even I didn't expect this one.

I push past John, taking Hamish from Mrs Hudson. The gunman doesn't move, or even point the gun towards me. "You'll let them go?" John manoeuvres himself so he's in front of Hamish and me. I want to tell him not to be so protective, it only shows the gunman a weakness, and then he can threaten John more. He'll exploit that.

"The old woman. The kid, I need .Unfortunately."

"He's four. Let him go," John says. Mrs Hudson runs off, but hesitates on the landing.

"And no calls to the police, I've disabled all the landlines. I have your phone. Now go" she lets out a stifled sob but runs downstairs.

"Hamish, go sit behind the sofa. I put him down on the floor, he's still crying quietly. A safer place, he's protected by it but not of our view.

"I want him in sight."

I sigh. Reacting irate or worried will only encourage him. "Fine. Hai, sit behind Dad."

"What do you need?" John asks, backing closer so Hamish is resting against his leg.

"Hmmm, well your…husband is close to becoming a threat to a friend of mine. We thought it was best to take him out."

"You already did that. They were practically on a date." the gunman laughs, lowering his gun a little.

"But no. We originally were just going to shoot him, but he seems to be very close to you. Would tell you everything. So, you too Dr Watson."

"Then why won't you let our son go? He won't know anything."

"Little genius, I heard?" You never know what these little ones pick up. Plus, you took him on one of your investigations of a suspect. We thought it better to get rid of any evidence."

"My brother has it narrowed down to the four. He could kill each one of you."

"He's too scared of the repercussions, what might happen to his government. So you're wrong. Wouldn't even avenge your deaths."

"Hamish won't remember. Let him go."

"I will shoot if he moves any closer to that door."

"No." John says, much too quickly "I mean, how we can make this better for you. Any exchange?"

"Well. I could use you, Sherlock, to gather information. But maybe not"

"I wouldn't anyway."

"Sherlock! He'd do it, whatever." John explains, nodding at me

"Yeah." I agree, sighing. He isn't going to agree to this. He's biding time for something. Now, I just need to overpower him. I take a step forward.

"No no. Stay back." He presses the gun to my chest and pushes me back, then turns to John. "Well, this has been a nice chat, but I have other things to do tonight. I think I will get the old woman on the way out."

John nudges Hamish with his foot. Hamish had been watching everything, completely frozen, but now he moans a little.

"Ahh, the kid. Might be interesting to see your reactions to him. Hey, little boy." Hamish moves back, hiding behind John more "Hamish, did you call him? Hamish, come here."

"He's not stupid."

"Sherlock, not helping." John mutters, and in the same breath "Hamish run!" Hamish looks startled for a second, pausing but runs to the door.

And a shot echoes through the building.

John, of course had been in the position to protect Hamish, totally in the way of the bullet. Without severe angling and bouncing off, Hamish could have never been hurt. I knew that but John would have been in the way.

So I intercepted. As his finger started to contract to pull the trigger, I jumped him, the gun flying onto the floor. The bullet hits the wall, and John kicks the gun away, and I press a foot to the small of the gunman's back, holding him down. He hits at me, trying to drag at my leg, but it's useless.

John stamps on the hand on the floor and the man squeals, put grabs at his ankle. This man is relentless. He hits up, letting go off his head wound still gushing blood, hitting at my leg then pulling himself up, His now crippled hand reaches around his stomach, and he pulls out a knife.

Of course, I saw he had this earlier. If he hadn't fallen on his stomach I would have already take it,. Half sat up, he lashes at anything in his reach, slashing at my shins. John steps away, coming back with the first heavy object he could get within a few steps, the skull from the mantelpiece. He smashes against the gunman's hand, and he's down. John hits him again for good measure, and he's down.

"You okay?" he breathes, walking towards the door.

"Cut's pretty deep. Go check Hamish. I'll stay with him."

"I need to call the police, an ambulance. I'll do that when I get back. Won't be long." The linen of my trousers is stuck to my leg, the blood running through to my shoe. Definitely pretty bad. I go to the kitchen- No way he's waking any time soon- and grab a towel, lifting the material of my trousers to wrap it around. It stings as I pull the material away, but the cut seems relatively clean. I lean over and check the knife. Nothing on it. . John is back seconds later, Hamish in his arms with a hand over his eyes.

"He didn't even go downstairs, he was sat halfway down the staircase." John explains, then kisses Hamish's cheek "Hai, look he's unconscious. He can't do anything now. We're fine." he pulls Hamish's hand away from his face, and Hamish looks down

"He isn't pretending?" Hamish whispers, his voice a little hoarse.

"No. Definitely not. Now, sit there with Father for a second and I'll call the police" He places Hamish on the couch where I'm sat and I lift him to my knee, holding him close. I hand John my phone and he gets down to his knees in front of me, phone under his chin. "Police, Ambulance. Yeah Baker Street, Sherlock yeah. Urgent" he takes my hand away from the now towel examining the wound.

"Hai, don't look." John warns. After Hamish being threatened, in the flat for that whole confrontation, this is hardly much.

"S**t. You need stiches. Hang on, I have a kit somewhere" He passes me the towel back "Wrap that around. I'll be a minute" John shakes his head as he walks past the unconscious gunman, stepping on the other hand as he walks.

"Fa I don't like it."

"What?"

"The man. He got me out of bed and made me come downstairs, then shouted at me and Grandma. Where did you go? It was scary."

"I know. I'm sorry. We won't let it happen again." John comes back in, a green first aid kit in one hand, more towels in his other.

"We can't promise it Sherlock, we can't always be safe. Obviously, they knew how to get past Mycroft's security. Probably set it up. We need more. I don't know, if Hamish isn't safe in his own home then…"

"He usually is. It was a special case. But yeah, I guess. More. I'll have more installed in the morning. I'll let Mycroft install the new system they put on the Palace."

"The same security system as the Queen? Maybe good enough…"


	49. Trouble

**AN:** _Chapter based on a prompt from _ChocolateAndCheese_  
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"….And we would like you to come down to the school for a meeting." John's on the phone, and I'd leant over to hear who's on the other line. I could probably have figured out almost every word from watching him, but this was much better.

"Sherlock stop," John says when I lay a kiss on his neck, moving away. "Tomorrow? 4pm? Yes, I think we can make it. And what is it about? Academic or?" the voice on the other end of the line was that of their receptionist, an overweight woman who dropped out of high school and started here when her father was headmaster.

"Oh, fine then. I'll see you then. Thank you."

"What did he do?" I ask, sitting down on the couch and pulling John with me.

"How did you-" John shakes his head then begins to explain "They didn't tell me. I expect it's an accumulation of different things and he's just pushed it too far. Wait, she didn't tell me he'd done something wrong, how would you know that? He might be receiving praise or something."

"Obvious. Praise, it would be a presentation of some sort. Schools like to show off about these things, it wouldn't be some sort of private meeting. If it was something about him moving up a class-he's clearly above the rest of the year, we would have been told by his class teacher."

"Well, yeah. I would have expected it. Calls home are usually for the worst. We can't do anything right now, I'll see when I pick him up. Anyway ,I thought you were cooking something?"

"Not cooking, John, I was increasing the temperature of the oils, best done in the oven."

"Yeah…" John says vaguely. Perhaps he'd been hoping for a meal-despite the fact he'd just eaten. "I'm going to nap. Don't blow anything up." he stands up, walking to the bedroom. We'd gotten in at around 5am, we'd been out all night on a stake-out, or a less boring version of one.

"Why didn't you wake me?" John comes running out, dragging on a jumper. "I'm almost an hour late to get him. And you-Oh." he turns, seeing Hamish in the living room, laid writing.

"I thought I'd let you sleep. I went to collect him. Didn't take long, didn't even affect what I was doing."

"Good. Hi," he bends down next to Hamish, looking at what he's doing.

"That's homework. That set for Year Three, to be exact."

"Did you ask the teacher what he'd done?"

"Didn't have to."

"He told you?" He doesn't wait for me to answer before turning around to Hamish "What happened?"

"I mean, I could see it." I set down my pipette and go to the sofa, sitting behind a confused looking Hamish.

"What?"

"What happened at school today Hai? I know about it," I explain and Hamish looks down, away from both of us.

"He thought…"

"No, let Hai tell me" John pulls Hamish up from the floor, so he's stood facing us. When Hamish still doesn't speak and continues looking at the floor, John encourages him further "What did you do? I won't shout, just explain, please."

Hamish mumbles something unintelligible. This is so slow. Is this how normal parents have to work every time? Terrible, if they weren't all such idiots then I suppose a lot more misbehaviour would be prevented "John, I don't think-"

"No, Sherlock. Hamish will tell me himself," John looks at Hamish as he speaks, then lifts his head. "Come on Hai. Why was it so bad?"

"Because the teacher shouted at me a lot."

"Not like that. What did you do to make her yell?"

"Nothing."

"Hamish" John warns, and Hamish throws himself to the floor, in the beginnings of a tantrum. "Don't you dare." John picks up, holding his chin so he looks straight at him. What is it?"

"I don't know." Hamish shouts, tearing up.

"Shhhh. What did she say you did?" John puts Hamish on his lap, wiping at his eyes. Really, he should've just let me explain. It would have been quicker and Hamish wouldn't be this wound up. He's right though; he hardly needed this much of a punishment. John glances at me curiously, but goes back to looking after Hamish, he still doesn't want my answer.

"Bad." Hamish hides his face in his hands, which John pulls away again.

"Hamish please. You can say, I promise I won't be mad." John's actually going to promise this? He is probably going to angry so now he's just going to have to supress it, or perhaps show Hamsihs that he lied.

"That I was mean."

"Because?"

"I'm not mean."

"I know. You have to tell me though, or I can't do anything." Hamish pauses, his face contorting as he tried to figure something out.

"I called someone stupid. Everyone stupid. Teacher too. And-"

John is shaking his head already

"Dad-"

"Finish please."

"And I threw things. I hit Maisy. That was an accident and I said sorry."

"Only for that? Hai, you can't talk to people like that."

"Father does," Hamish protests and John glares at me.

"He knows that's not appropriate. So should you. It hurts people."

"But it's _true_. You said I have to tell the truth," Hamish moans, throwing his arms up.

"You do. But there are things that hurt people, so you can't say them. What if someone said you were stupid?"

"I'm not, so that would be a lie and I wouldn't care." Hamish seems to be making a very good point, and I pretty much agree with all of his reasoning. This was one of the reasons why I waited for John to wake up to handle this, I would only agree and I would need to still discipline him.

"Okay, well you didn't like it when the teacher called you mean-which was wrong of her- so you know you mustn't say those things. It makes people feel awful." Hamish nods and John smiles a little and is about to explain about a punishment, thinking there's nothing more to tell.

"That's not it though is it, Hamish?"

"What do you mean?" John asks, pulling Hamish, who'd began to slip away, back to him.

"Unlike the nursery's door, that had the lock onto the rest of the school, his classroom's door doesn't. Plus, they play in a different room sometimes. So Hamish sneaks out, he'll go around the school and sit in another classroom. He's found within minutes, but he's been doing it a lot."

"Hamish!"

"My class is boring. They learn more in Year 2," Hamish is shouting, upset again. Still, he's good at defending himself.

John is thwarted; he can't tell Hamish off for wanting to learn more. "But you can't leave your class. The teachers worry about you. It's not good."

"But I'm bored."

"I know. We'll try to fix that. You can't misbehave like this Hai. We have to go see the headteacher."

"No!" Hamish hits out, accidently hitting John's chest in the gesture.

"Ouch Hamish."

"Don't go. No."

"Apologise for hitting Dad" I say, which Hamish does, then tries to slide away to throw himself on the ground in anger.

"Stop it." John catches his arm, pulling him up again "Now, you'll come in with us and you'll see everything. Oh, and no TV, no laptop and no games for a week" The games are VTech; all skill and intellect based but Hai loves them.

"No. Please. No," Hamish begs, but John only shakes his head. "I need them."

"You shouldn't have misbehaved then." John walks off to the kitchen, most likely to start dinner.

"Fa help."

"Nope." I go to collect his two VTech games and turn the television off.

Left alone, Hamish throws himself on the sofa, crying and yelling. "Hamish stop it, that's not going to help and you'll hurt your throat again."

"I want them." He's still in the throes of his tantrum, so his voice comes out strangled.

"You can't. Cry as much as you want, you're not getting anything. Although, bare in mind that this sort of behaviour will not encourage Dad or I to give you anything back early."

Hamish goes quiet then, sniveling and rubbing his face. I take the games to our room then come back. "Now, what do you think you should do?"

"Stop being near stupid people."

I have to suppress a laugh, knowing it would be inappropriate. "You can't help that. The world is full of morons. However, some can be useful and we have to put up with them. No, what can you do to make it better at school?"

"Ask for better work. And I'll say sorry." He sighs. Apparently better, he goes back to his homework.

"We'll get you that, it's okay. You're good Hai, it'll be fine." John says, taking a tissue and wiping Hamish's face.

We have to wait for fifteen minutes while the headmistress finished her game of solitaire, under the pretence of her calling some other parent.

The receptionist calls us in, and we sit go through her heavy wooden door. John hesitates, about to knock but I push through anyway.

"Why do you need us?" I ask. This is going to be tedious, may as well get it over with fast.

"Sit down, Mr Holmes and Dr Watson, please."

"We're actually-" John begins, about to correct out names but she shrugs him off.

"Okay, so your son is very disruptive." She starts to gush, good she's going to respond to any was I try to rush her "Now, I know he's at a higher level than-"

"Almost genius level, according to his latest IQ test," I correct, again she doesn't pay attention, carrying on with her spiel.

At least, she would have if John hadn't started speaking. "Isn't Hai coming in here? Wouldn't that be better?"

"It's not usually how we work, but I'll call him in of you like." She picks up her phone and gets the receptionist. Very lazy. Looks like she's lax in her work too, very behind. The school is doing well, mostly an accountant will fix things for her or the governors.

"So, we've told him what he needs to do. It's your job to control him once he's here. How can it be us?" I add as she searches for a number.

"What my husband is trying to say." John was apparently really irritated that she didn't acknowledge our marriage, so addressing it now. "Is that, shouldn't the teachers know how to handle him by now? It's not like he'll be going a normal reception classes' work."

The door opens, and Hamish comes in, looking worried. I pull him onto my lap and the headmistress frowns. "Not exactly appropriate if he's being told of, Mr Holmes. Sit there Hamish" She points to a smaller chair closer to her side of the desk and Hamish starts to move but I stop him. John looked a little annoyed at my treatment of Hamish at first, he knows that it isn't 'appropriate' but he understands now, if he's still going to be annoyed at me later.

"He needs comfort. He's scared. Of course what he did was wrong and he's been punished accordingly. Here and at home. Although, he doesn't act up like that for us. Not when he's occupied properly. He wouldn't be like that if you knew what to do with him."

"Punished? What did you do?"

"Took away his privileges," I say, and she looks pleased "Now, on his classes. He's rectified his relationship with his classmates. Now, what are you going to do?"

"This isn't what the meeting was for…"

Hamish squirms at her tone and I stroke his hair, something that always calms him. "Hai, aren't you bored in class?" John asks quickly, before she can throw us out.

"Yes."

"All children are bored in class. Actually, there's a whole sociological theory saying-"

"No, not normally bored. Plus, he only has lessons in the mornings. Hamish, what do you think of the work?" Apparently, John and Hamish weren't getting through to her, so I try myself.

"Too easy. Today they told us how to spell 'bee' and 'be', the animal and the normal word. I drew pictures and got shouted at."

"See?" I say, though Mrs Flynn looks annoyed.

"Hamish, you know you should still pay attention. Don't do that. And don't answer back. Yes, we let you at home, but it isn't acceptable at school." John's response is better received, though she still looks irritated.

"Fine. You teach him how he needs to talk to adults and how to get through lessons without shouting or anything, and we'll look into moving him up a year."

"Or we may move him schools. See if there's somewhere more appropriate." Fantastic. I've been wanting this since Hamish started, and now John's finally coming around. "Hamish needs more attention, if the work isn't geared to him, who knows what he's going to be like when he's older and bored. He could do a lot worse."


	50. Party

"What's this?" John is pulling papers out of Hamish's bag, checking for letters (Hamish always forgets to mention those, usually ending up with John having to run back to the school with something we were supposed to have bought weeks ago) currently in his hand is piece of blue paper, but I can only see the back. I know from experience that he means Hamish to explain further, rather than a sigh and a statement of the obvious.

"Dylan's party invite," Hamish says the word carefully, making an effort to pronounce it properly; it's likely to be new to him.

"Great. We should go get him a present. Sounds like a nice day, bouncy castle, magician..."

"Don't want to go," Hamish says, moving past John to take his book from the table (after he figured out the lock code I'd set to stop him turning on the TV when he was banned, his punishment had been increased by another week).

"Why's that?" John takes more out of the bag and finding no letters, throws the rubbish Hamish had collected into the bin.

"No! I need that," Hamish protests, grabbing a bundle of half cut paper form John's hand. "It's a bacteria."

"Oh…fine then. Now, why don't you want to go?"

"It's one that was in my mouth. A picture of it," he seems to feel the need to clarify it, apparently think he'll be contradicted – or it's the product of been with idiots all day "Fa showed me." Hamish looks at the drawing/sculpture proudly, straightening out an edge.

"Yes. You haven't answered my question Hai."

"I don't like parties."

"You've never been to one before, how do you know?"

"They're pretty terrible," I interrupt, Hamish shouldn't have to be subjected to this.

"Sherlock, shut up. No, why wouldn't you like it?"

"Noisy. And he said I have to get him a present and I don't know what."

"You'll have fun. You love magicians and that stuff. We'll go look for a present, it'll be fine. I'll even stay if you want, so you can go home whenever."

"I don't want to!" Hai, it seems, is becoming more and more stubborn as he gets older.

"You're friends with Dylan; he'll be sad if you don't go to his party."

"Emotional manipulation. I though you said we weren't supposed to use that on Hamish" I put in, reminding John of what he'd told me. I'm sure I sound like a child, but he should explain.

"Not the same. This is true, for one, and I'm trying to get Hamish, to do something,"

"The whole class was invited. It's the policy for children of that age. Hardly anything special." John looks briefly shocked and Hamish looks upset. Now what have I done?

"Sherlock! You've met Dylan, he was the one that brought Hai's bag out when he hurt his leg. He's nice and he's even been there for tea. Stop it."

"Dylan only wanted me to come because the rest of the class did?" Hamish's intelligence can hurt him sometimes, it's normal of course, but he's so young-he should be allowed to forget things. It's nothing I thought would be bad, but I can already see that Hamish has taken it like that. He's upset.

I lean over and pick Hamish up, putting him on my knee "No. Dylan did- does- like you. I saw that when I saw him. I didn't remember his name, you know I don't think of those things."

"So he does want to be my friend?"

"Yes."

John speaks at the time as I do. "He is your friend Hai. Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Worrying. I don't know. You're four, why does this stuff even cross your mind? Everyone in that class likes you actually, even if you do call them idiots. The teachers have told me."

"It's not…my brain just says funny things sometimes." Hamish struggles to put this into words, finally coming up with something and sighing.

"I know. It's okay," John places his palm against Hamish's cheek, staring at him for a second. "You'll be fine to go then?"

"Yes Dad." John leaves, going to put Hai's PE kit in the washing.

"Hai, how often do you think things like this? That people don't like you?"

"Just when they say things. Like Dyl said I'm weird because I read all the time. But he likes it when I read what he can't. It's nice"

"Contradiction. Okay." I settle. Good. He's still too young for any type of paranoia, or any bullying really. "And you don't mind 'weird'?"

"I like reading. And Dad says weird is good, because normal is boring." I smile. John's so good at this, somehow he'll always know what he needs to say to make Hamish feel better. Something I'll never understand. I'm usually the one that Hamish needs comforting because of.

"We got him this." Hamish is shoving a box at me, but I keep typing not looking at him or it. "Fa!" he shouts, still I carry on. He jumps to the chair, then shouts next to my ear. "Fa!"

"Give me a minute," if I didn't know better, I would say that he cause damage to my eardrums.

"Fa," He elongates the vowel, sitting down on the chair's arm and putting his feet on my legs "Look."

I finish the line of code, then look around at him. On his lap, he has a box with a truck in packaging, with buttons to press-supposedly it would make noises.

"Good. He likes cars." The boy's father is a mechanic so of course he's already have an interest in this kind of thing.

"Dad said that. I wanted to get books because he likes it when I read things."

"That would have been nice too Hai." Definitely better, that child is going to be paid through school, he's nowhere close to the average intelligence of a four-five now, it seems- year old. I have no idea why Hamish is even interested in him. Or is could be the teaching that intrigues him, he likes explaining. "He'll love it. Did you get a card?" John always remembers those, and Hai likes the badges (or at least he did last year, he wore 6 at once).

"Yay." Hamish drops the bag at my feet and pushes himself onto my lap, moving the laptop to the side. "What you doing?"

"Work. At least before you came back." I tickle him until he's in fits of giggles. John's downstairs, asking Mrs Hudson about some repairs on the floor, if we have to pay damage. I told him not to, and that I'd have it repaired but he won't let me call anyone. I did try to fix it myself (after ruining it with a certain split acid) but it didn't exactly go to plan.

"Can I get Dad? I want the cake he got."

I check the clock. "It's almost tea time. You won't be allowed, you can have some later. Plus, he's just coming up here now."

"Hai, come _on,_" John shouts up the stairs.

"He's playing with his Innotab."

"Why did you get him that anyway? It wasn't even his birthday or anything. And it's expensive."

"We've had this argument before. It's educational. It helps him. It's not spoiling him."

"I know but…Oh, whatever. We can spoil him, it's not like he throws fits when he doesn't get what he wants. At least not more than a normal kid."

"Actually, on average a boy of his age would have 3.2- so round that to 3 tantrums a week. Hai is on 1, so he's actually less" John isn't really listening. He's staring up the stairs.

"Hamish, this is _your_ friend's party. We need to leave now if we don't want to be late." Hamish walks out of the room, tablet in hand.

"Can I take this?"

"You'll be having too much fun to play that, come on." John steps up a little and grabs Hamish's hand, putting the toy on table and giving Hamish his coat. "Be about three hours. Bye love." he kisses my cheek and they leave.

Hamish has been to parties before, but not those of school friends. Ones with us, or something of a friend if John's children's, so this is slightly different. From his first reaction, I don't predict that Hamish will want to take part in anything during the party and John will need to coax him into it. Then, with the help of his friends, he'll relax and start to enjoy himself. The new people there, those that aren't from his class may make him a little wary, Hai still hates strangers, but again he'll get through it.

After I've completed a results graph and formula for the effect of saliva on fresh wounds, gone through John's old emails (I found an account from when he was in his twenties a few days ago. Something I meant to look into), it's been four hours and they still aren't back. John would have usually texted if something was keeping them. It's the party, Hai's enjoying himself so they're staying I know that. John will be busy, telling stories of cases, of course I know that but this is still unusual behaviour. I take my phone out.

**Get me some cake? I feel like something sweet.- SHW**

John, opposing to my prediction, texts back straight away.

**You haven't eaten today have you? I'll bring you as much as I can find then. We'll be back in half an hour. **

He's helping clear up, I'd bet. Hamish playing with the other boy-whatever his name was.

"Fa!" I hear Hamish and stand up, he's running and he launches himself at me as soon as he gets through the door. "Hi."

"What's happened? Why are you hugging me?" I lift him up properly, and he leans against me.

"Nothing." He opens the small bag in his hand, and takes out a whistle. "Look! I got presents." John walks in, another bag in his hand, this one normal sized.

"Do you still want cake?" He takes his bag to the kitchen. Hamish blows the whistle loudly.

"Ouch Hamish. You shouldn't do that near anyone's ear. What else do you have in there anyway?" I dip into the bag, distracting him "Yes, pass me it now."

"I got bubbles, a long balloon, cake- Dad's got that, sweets," he takes out the little bag and attempts to open it. I put him down on the sofa (he stood up, apparently too hyper to sit) and open the bag for him "a ball maze thing and a pen"

"Very good. Can you do the maze?" John brings the cake on a plate, giving Hamish another slice and pulling him to a sitting position on the couch.

"It's easy!" Hamish laughs, preceding to turn the maze in his hands, moving the ball baring.

"Hai had a good time." John says, pulling Hamish's coat off of him. Hamish moans at the interruption, still looking at the maze.

"Obviously. You didn't. A woman wouldn't stop asking you about work, which was fine at first but she was persistent. Asked about Afghanistan too. She wouldn't even leave when you talked to other parents. Which is why you stayed late, you were worried the host would think you were ungrateful-ridiculous."

"Can't I tell my own stories?" John grins. "Yes, perfectly right. How?"

I explain quickly, then turn to Hamish, wanting him to confirm something. "You got invited to another party today?"

"Look. Maze done." He presents it to me proudly, moving the ball again. "No!"

"Another party?"

"What?" he's focusing again. "Yes, Olivia's. She's nice."

John looks blank. "Oh. Dylan's cousin. Yeah, he made a new friend. They spent most of the day together."

"You have a girlfriend Hamish?" I ask, and Hamish immediately blushes.

"No! Fa shut up. No. She's my friend." he says indignantly.

I tickle his neck. "No, I think you really like her. And I'm always right" John groans and Hamish hits at me lightly, shushing me as I tease him more.


	51. Parent's Day

_**AN****:** So I uploaded the last chapter too early, this is really set before it. Which is why they have been moved around. _

* * *

"Fine. But don't count on it, I may have to work a case." Hamish just grins and runs to the living room. He seems to be very sure of himself, almost worryingly so. How would he know that?

Hamish was right somehow, meaning we were all in a taxi in the way to his school. Hamish is bouncing a little, half on account of the sugary cereals (the usual healthier ones being used for to see whether rats prefer them to flesh) and half out of excitement. Again, we've both been inside the school multiple times before, so this is hard to understand. Yet, I know it's better than him being embarrassed by us, which John says will happen in a few years (I never went out with my parents, so never felt that. I embarrassed them, in fact).

"So we stay all day?"

"Yes, Sherlock." John sighs.

"What do I do?"

"They have activities set up, fun things. Things to teach the kids."

"And buns," Hamish puts in "We made then yesterday."

"Sounds dull. You'll make sure I get a bun you made right Hai?"

"I did them with special icing and sweets." Hamish says as we pull into the school. Hamish doesn't have to wear his uniform today, so the playground is filled with children in bright colours, chasing each other around. I wonder how many of those I will see in the future, higher class children tend to be the orchestrators of the crimes, and a lot seem more likely to get revenge for affairs rather than a divorce. I pose the thought to John as we step out of the cab-Hamish clamouring to be picked up, which neither of us obliges and he runs off, seeing a friend- and he glares at me.

"Not appropriate, Sherlock. Not now, they're all still innocent."

"Not exactly. The girl you just almost tripped over, her room is next to her parents' and-"

"Nope," John says, hunting for Hamish in the mass of kids. He calls Hamish over and we head into the building "She doesn't know what it is, therefore she's innocent."

"Then why do you insist that Hai's asleep before-"

"How many times do I have to tell you not to talk about S-E-X when Hamish is around? Or the other children?" Hamish puts his coat on a peg and leads is into the classroom.

"Sex," Hamish says, figuring the word"What does that mean?"

"Spelling doesn't work with him anymore, I thought you knew that after he started figured out what Mrs Hudson got him for Christmas. Anyway, Hai," I bend down, explaining on his level just as John's TV program had said"Sex is the act of-"

"No," John pulls me up, dragging me towards the teacher in the middle of the room. "Hamish, we'll explain when you're older." I sigh and follow him. Not knowing isn't good for Hamish's brain, it'll bother him.

"Mrs Robinson, Hi. Just saying Hai's here and we'll talk if you need us. We're fine with everything, right love?"

"Do you always drink before work, Mrs Robinson?" She's never outside when the children are, so I only met her briefly a few months ago, this was after school, no sign of alcohol on her then.

"I- what? No. I haven't been drinking."

"No? All the signs point towards it. I suspect one of your parents was an alcoholic, and being kicked out of your apartment is spurring you towards the same.. I would say your mother, is that correct?"

"You can't work if you've been drinking, You could endanger the children," John says. Other parents have moved over now, listening as the short woman becomes flustered.

"How do you know about mum?" She begins to whisper, moving closer to me. "I promise, it was just this once. I'm a little stressed." She's telling the truth. Though she is heading towards alcoholism, she doesn't usually drink before work.

"Good," I say, stepping back. The other parents are already muttering about her under their breath, most likely she'll be fired for this. She'll get even worse then-faster than she would have- and Hai will be that little bit safer.

Hamish had gone off and sat at one of the tables while we were talking and he now appears to be writing something. John walks over and puts a hand on his shoulder, leaning over the small table."What about the planned activities, bud? You don't have to do your work now, today is for fun." Hamish nods but finishes his line. It's from a book, something he'll have memorised (The Bear Hunt, we had to find him a costume for the performance of it). "I like this."

"That's good Hai. Very good. But don't you want to show me your models?" He means those with the clay set out on a table in the far corner, a few dry models at the side of the bucket.

"Mine are on the window," Hamish says, and walks over.

"Windowsill."

He picks up two small vaguely bowl shaped things (probably the best ones that were on there) and passes them to John. "Can I paint them?"

"What are we supposed to do?" I ask as they go to find the paint.

"You can help. Make something with the clay. Sit with us and do something. I'm sure that massive brain of yours can come up with something."

"No," I say, but John's talking to the teacher about finding paint and Hai is with a friend. I go to him, I don't think John would want me to talk to anymore of the teachers today. Hamish grabs my hand as I move behind him.

"This is Father. He makes all the bad guys go to prison." Hamish was told about proper introductions in a PSHE class last week, and he's been formal about it since then, even with people he already knows.

"You're a police officer?" the little girl with him asks. Her voice is high, in the way so many women try to imitate. Hamish sighs, he's had to explain this before to other classmates, and they're always too young to understand. He leans back against my legs.

"No, if the police…don't know what they're doing, which is very often, they ask me." Unlike with Hamish, who I'll speak with normally and explain words to, it's easier to use simpler terms with this girl.

"But I thought they kept us safe? They don't know what they're doing?" The girl looks around, presumably for her own parents, wanting to question what they'd told her about the police force.

"Most of the cases the police need to handle are simple. Criminals are stupid, their clues easy to find. In the event that that doesn't happen, they'll call me. they **(capitalize)**do need a lot of the time, idiots. But you're safe." I smile, hoping there was something of a reassurance in there for her. I don't want some parent coming up and complaining at me. Especially the man the girl keeps looking at, he works with my brother.

"And the government **(comma)**" she says carefully, slightly mispronouncing it.

"Yes."

"My uncle is that. **(comma)**" Hamish says, of course Mycroft had tried to warn him off saying that and explained things to him, but Hai had liked my explanation better. The girl giggles and runs off to her own father, grabbing Hamish's hand; he seems perfectly happy with it. John has disappeared probably helping collect the paint or something. I'm about to start searching through the desk draw, see if my suspicion on the teacher's annoyance at the assistant was due to his constant advances (there should be notes, something he would do that they kids couldn't understand) but Hamish comes back over, apparently I had been supposed to follow him.

"Hai, is that your girlfriend? I thought that was the girl at the party?"

"Fa shhhh. She's there. No she isn't. I don't have one."

"But you like her?" Hamish shushes me again and taps the girl's shoulder.

"I didn't say your name. This is Jenny."

I nod. "Do you like Hamish, Jenny?"

"Yes, we play together all the time."

"Good," I lean down to Hamish."She's nice, You should make her your girlfriend."

"Fa shut up. She might hear." I laugh. John had mentioned this girl before, he had teased Hamish about the same thing.

"Okay, okay. Dad's back. Jenny, would you like to come paint with us?" She looks to her parents who nod and say that they're about to talk to the teacher anyway.

"Good. You didn't upset anyone," John says as he pours out some paint.

"I wouldn't. I can be civil when I need to."

"I know. Hai, are you sitting on my knee? Then I can help," he moves a larger chair to the tiny table and Hamish climbs up, telling his friend to sit with him.


	52. Tidying

"Hai, what are you doing?"

Hamish, too deep in concentration, ignores him.

"He's picking locks."

"What? Sherlock, he's four.He can't pick locks!"

"No, he can't. I tried to teach him just on our door and he couldn't do it at all. I told him to just leave it but he wouldn't,"

"Why the hell are you trying to teach him to pick locks? Hai, put that down."

"But Dad-"

"No, the pin's sharp at the end. Answer, Sherlock?" he bends down and takes it from Hamish who makes a noise of anger, tries to hold on and finally relinquishes it when John threatens to send him to his room.

"I didn't have the chance. It's for his own safety." I picked the book I'd been reading (and correcting) up again.

"How?" John comes closer, resting a hand on my shoulder "Sherlock, you haven't explained. Why would he need to pick locks to 'get out of danger?' You only use that for breaking _in."_

"True enough, but yet, he may need to get out of somewhere. Or, he may be, say, alone with Mrs Hudson-she always locks the flat door- and she could be ill, when there's no key. The chances of her phone not working is low, but I'm being cautious."

"Okay, good reasoning. What if he uses it at school or something? Tries it out on some random door?"

"If it works, I'll be pretty proud of him. He's very young, **and**can barely reach the handle." (Hamish had been stood on a small buffet we bought for that sort of activity when playing at ours)

"Sherlock! No, he'd be in trouble. Please don't tell me he's been learning about unlocking safes too."

"No. I got him to memorise some of the most common codes and passwords though. Also, our mobile numbers, the surgery and Mrs Hudson's landline."

"How did he do that?"

"It's easy." Hamish says, walking up to John, already over his sulk.

"Mind Palace."

"What-I. He's deleting things?"

"That isn't the same thing. No, he's just remembering everything better now."

"Okay. Hai, want to help me make jelly?"

"You can't."

"What this time?"

"I like the consistency. I wanted to see what it could preserve. Take a look, there's a finger in the bowl over there."

"You put them in our breakfast bowls? I told you, stop doing that. I even bought a new set."

"I know. I'll go buy you more."

"What? You, shopping? For food? I'd like to see it,"

"I'm only getting the jelly. And milk, we're out. Maybe some potassium chloride."

"They don't sell that." John sighs, sitting down. Hamish jumps up and cuddles next to him.

"Why? I'm sure they said on the ad 'anything you'll need in daily life'? Well, I'm not hoping for 'we sell everything' like the other supermarket, I thought this would work."

"Potassium chloride isn't something most people use every day. Not very popular,"

"They should. It's pretty volatile so good for showing some very basic reactions."

"Not normal to do that either, love."

"But…They have fireworks. They must have some supply. I could just extract it from those."

"Not in March."

"Oh. Right. Well, I'll get some from the morgue or something. Anyway, shopping. Will they have it at the corner shop?"

"No. I'll get some ,it's fine."

"But…you do everything John. I should do more around here."

"You don't usually care. Have you been watching soaps again?"

"No. Though there are a lot of murders- which can be interesting- they're simple and everyone around is stupid. It's bad for my health."

"Okay… Have you broken something? Blown something up? Did you get my laptop corrupted again trying to hack Mycroft?"

"Yes…the blown up thing." John rolls his eyes and starts to speak "Just a bowl. And it's nothing to do with that."

"Well? Seriously Sherlock, are you sure you're fine? It's not normal for you. Really, it doesn't usually matter. I mean, I appreciate but-"

"It isn't in line with my normal patterns of behaviour, which worries you. Especially according to the diagnosis you gave me of Asperger's."

"Exactly-you know I've rethought that though. Anyway I needed to check. If you say it's nothing, then I'll believe you. Could you go sort Hai's room while you're still in that mood?"

"Okay. Hamish, come with me." John leans back, putting his hands behind his head.

"And maybe the kitchen, unless Martha's done it. Oh, and maybe tidy up our room."

"That is perfectly organised," Hamish stands, a little moody, but runs when I open my arms and grin, allowing him to jump up. "Which is what you're going to do to your room." I tickle under Hamish's chin and walk upstairs, John laughing and shaking his head. I hear him put the TV on as we walk upstairs.

"Organise?"

"Put it in order. Index you clothes, sort out all of your toys into groups."

"Index?"

"Put them in a list and then sort them by that."

"I put stuff in boxes and order."

"Your floor is still a mess," I say, opening the door "I don't actually think it's bad, but Dad said that we had to tidy it,"

"Can I have a lock on my door?"

"No," I say and put him down. "Now, we'll put all those soft toys in the box. Do they have names?"

"Yes. Why?" Hamish is sat down, putting the Lego away. Not properly, but it's a start. All of the soft toys, all of his cars and trucks, all of the action figures, are all in separate lines in his room. (the rest of his toys; board games, outside play things, are all in a cupboard, his books on a shelf). "Because we'll be able to order them better. In fact, you can do that. Order the bears alphabetically, and then we'll sort them by those you like the most."

"They're not all bears."

"Yes, I meant that. I'll start with your books."

"Why?"

Realising he didn't mean why I would be working on another job, I began to explain, "Because it's better this way, you'll be able to think straighter and find things easier."

"But I can see everything when it's out in my room"

"Why are all your toys arranged in lines, Hamish?" Though it's not very good or the best way for his room to be, not in organisation terms at least, Hamish's room is pretty good. I like that he's made his own order to things. Though, the rest of the floor is littered with drawing s and crayons, Lego bricks (which hurt an unsuspected amount stepped on. Though, it's not as if I've thought of it before, probably deleted their existence after childhood).

"Because-because… uh." I wait, Hamish doesn't often take long to form a sentence, even when he was learning to talk, but this signifies he's really thinking. His brow wrinkles. "I don't know." He** soun**ds stressed.

"It's okay. Don't get annoyed. It's a pretty normal behaviour, apparently. It just helps you to concentrate, and the fact they're in size order is interesting."

"Oh. How do you spell Argon?" Hamish had asked for a Periodic Table in his room after seeing my own, though he didn't really understand it he remembered a few of the names and I'd marked off the ones I'd shown him.

"You know that. Don't look at the chart."

"A-R" Hamish, despite his teacher's instructions, spells in uppercase as that are how we'd taught him before school began "G-O-N-E"

I smile, the 'E' though silent and a part that he shouldn't have recognised at his age, he'd added on after reading or spelling the word 'gone' at some point."No 'E', Hai**.**But good."

"Oh. Sam says it's weird I called my teddy 'Bach'."

"He knows you play violin? Did you explain?" I take all of the books off his shelf and begin putting them into piles.

"Yes. But I can't play that so I couldn't show him. And I didn't have my violin."

"Yes, I know. Did you explain to him what a composer is?" I've long since given up on believing that normal people would be intelligent enough to appreciate music like that.

Hamish has already become distracted from his ordering, and is making one of his smaller bears attack a larger one "What?"

"Did you explain what a composer is?"

"He didn't get it."

"Oh. Well, then what?" Hamish usually gets upset with any detrimental comments, and he'd usually have told us as soon as it happened. The last time he took in his bear was 13 days ago.

"He said I was weird. And then I was upset and called him names too."

"What? I hope you were a little more inventive, rather than using the same insult twice."

"Yes. I called him an idiot and told him he smelled."

"Good." Hamish smiles and seems to remember he was supposed to be tidying as I start to place the books back. "Wait. I think you're supposed to tell a teacher. But in my experience, that usually makes you worse off. Better to insult them back. That's when they're older though. Maybe tell me or Dad? Dad might be better; he'll know what's right."

"Okay…" Hamish moves to his one of his puzzles- a pentomino- on the floor, beginning to fix it together.

"I think it'll be fine. Were you okay after? Did he hit you?"

"No! We just started playing in the sand."

I smile. Children recover so easily with friends, and Hamish can't really have been so bothered about the comment if he hadn't mentioned anything "Hai, focus."

"What I'm nearly done."

"How many ways can you do that?" I ask, leaving the books and shuffling over

"I don't know" Hamish giggles around a blue triangle and slots in the last rectangle "I think only this way, I know it."

"I think we should get you a harder one." I check the box. "Why did we get the one aimed at 7 year olds anyway? That's far too easy."

"Molly got it."

"Oh, of course. Well, I think we can make our own actually. Pass me some paper."

"But it won't fit in," Hamish protests, but I shake my head and he tips the puzzle out as I start drawing. "Fa? Why is something being easy bad? School's easy and that's not bad. I can play more times."

"You misbehave when you're bored like that. Well," I've gotten used to put it in slightly simpler terms for Hamish "it means that your brain has to work harder, so you get smarter."

"But this is easy and it's for bigger children. Aren't they smarter?"

"No Hai…well, they would normally be, because they've had more time to learn things, but because of the way you've been brought up, and Dad being intelligent, you're able to learn more than them. Do you get that?"

"So I'm smarter than people in Year 2 when I'm still little?"

"And some adults." I finish off the pieces for the pentomino and shout John for scissors. I hear him get up, muttering to himself and go to the kitchen.

"But if it's Dad making me smart it's you too right?"

"No. Not in that way anyway. It's really about the way you were made." John walks in, scissors in hand and passes them to me

"Weren't you cleaning?"

"We got side-tracked. I was just explaining to Hai why your intelligence had a different effect on him than mine and why it's more prominent."

"Intelligent? Thanks, you never say that. And no."

"What?"

"Not yet, Sherlock. Explain when he's older. Like the sex thing."

"What is that?" Hamish asks, he'd taken to colouring in the drawn pieces of the made pentomino.

"You have a very inquisitive mind, Hamish and though we'll always try and satisfy that and tell you anything you want to know, there are some things only adults talk about, and you'll get to know when you're older," John explains, bending down.

"Like a secret club? There was one of those in the book Grandma read to me."

"Yeah, almost." John supresses a laugh and walks out. "I'm gonna write up some notes while you're quiet.Get this room finished; it's more of a mess than when you started."


	53. Change

"Another one. Sherlock, let's go."

"I know," I say, stepping back from the wall of photos. "I know who he is and what he's going to do, I just can't get to his whereabouts. I'm sure there's some reason to it and-" I examine another photo, taking it down and pacing.

"Sherlock, Come on. You might find something new."

"Not likely. He's very consistent Unless he's messed up. I hope so. Why are you waiting around John?"

John rolls his eyes as I run down the stairs "Coat. It's freezing out there." Hethrows the coat over me and I pull it on, getting into the cab.

"How do you do that?" John mutters as I give the cabbie directions and hunch over my phone, looking at weather patterns.

The car pulls up, and there are still police cars surrounding the block of flats, good, Lestrade called us early. Hopefully, those idiots in forensics won't have messed anything up. They say they don't touch anything, but they do. None of them see the importance of an angle that a door was left open. When we get in, (after some shouts for me to leave) I get straight to the body and Lestrade kicks some new officer out. John's stopped off, putting on gloves. I turn in the room; the body is exactly how I thought, sprawled with the hands set above the head, put there after rigor mortis, in prayer. I turn and examine the room, last time there had been an indent-Oh for god's sake. That's a baby crying.

I can't concentrate with that noise. John's here now, leant over the body. "There were screams heard this time," he mutters, Lestrade may have told me but I usually just blank him out.

"Why is there a child?"

"Oh, yeah. She hid it in a drawer. Must have heard the guy coming." John puts his fingers to the neck of the victim, pressing lightly on the bruises. "Yeah, that's strangulation like the rest." He stands up, dusting his knees off. "Anything new?"

"She's a new mother, you can tell by the weight distribution on her body, the father-wait. Do they have a dog?"

"What? No, I don't know."

"They don't. Stupid. It's that noise. John, shut the thing up."

"The baby? Don't refer to it like that. It's mother's just been killed. She probably heard her dying screams."

"Uhm. Tell someone to get me a stepladder while you're making it quiet. I want to look on top of that cupboard."

"Yeah…" John sounds annoyed. Oh well. No time for that now. I'll fix it later.

I check the rest of the room while I wait, and though the baby is now quiet, John's not back. There! I take a box (it should hold) and stand in it, Ah, yes the layer of dust is disturbed, there was something here. Last time, an ornament was taken and this seems to have been something similar, strange. It would be very noticeable. The woman hadn't unlocked the door and the murdered must have come in from the woman's room. I wonder why John isn't back. I head to the room. Lestrade makes some comment but I'm ignoring him. Looking out, I notice something on the ground.

Finally, there's been a mistake, a big one. The kind that the police would have been able to figure out even without me. Possibly. "Ah! Brilliant. A scarf. We have them, I'll get it, and you can find him from the DNA left, most likely he has it around his face, I think the woman must have spat a little blood, her stomach was hit pretty hard at first, he likes them on the ground before he begins. He'll be in a small flat, much like this one, the flat will be full. Mementos, he's a hoarder. May even be some bodies. Most likely in one of the east boroughs. Bye now, Hamish will be home soon, we have to get him."

I walk out, shouting for John. I think he went to one of the other flats, offered to the police when they were asking questions. "John! They're going to get him now, come on."

"Yeah…Sherlock, I might stay until the social services get here. He has a small baby, must be only a few weeks old, wrapped in his jumper. "She cries whenever I set her down or pass her over you see, I quietened her-took her off Sally- and she's been clinging to me ever since."

"You're going to have to give it up anyway, and you know after a case we-"

"Shhh, she's grizzling now. Do you think there's milk upstairs?" The baby had started moving as I spoke, crying a little and winding her hands into John's shirt.

"What about Hamish? We have to go get him from school soon."

"Martha. I rang her on the way here, you didn't notice. Go if you want."

"No John I-"

"Shhh shhh," he jiggles the baby, standing up."Could you go look for some milk? Maybe a change of clothes and a nappy too? She's not happy at all." He bounces the little bundle in his jumper, humming a little. He'snot listening now, gone into care mode.

"If you're not going up, or leaving, will you ask someone to do something? Don't just stand there."

"But John-"

"Stop acting like a child. Hold her." John plants the child in my arms and stalks off. He was just moaning that it would start crying if he left. Obviously, that isn't happening. The baby seems quiet, though it looks a little startled. The old woman that lives here must have left; she has heart problems judging by the planned pout diet on the fridge and the pills in the container next to the TV. We might be here for a while. Lestrade comes in and says he's leaving, that John's upstairs now looking for clothes.

"Why has he left me with this?"

"How should I know? He's your husband, plus you're good with your own kid, he knows you'll be fine. Probably doesn't trust this lot." He leaves, taking his phone out. Not for the case, this is personal. He's having problems with his daughter. I think John told me something about that. This is boring.

I move, and the baby makes a noise in protest. "Shhhh," I go to the foot of the stairs to shout for John. He doesn't reply but I hear steps. Good I can get rid of the child. It's too small for me to have put it down anywhere, and I have a feeling John would have gotten mad.

"Okay, back, you can stop moaning," John says, dropping a bag on the sofa. "Put this in the microwave?"

"Can't the social workers do this? What's the point?"

"She's hungry now."

"What about all the stuff in that bag? You could have stayed here and I wouldn't have had to be bored. And we could even be on our way home by now."

"I said stop moaning." John sighs and I take the bottle from the microwave, automatically testing the temperature on my skin. "See, you care enough to test the temperature of that for her."

"A reflex. I'm going upstairs and ask if I can do the post mortem, haven't in a while."

"Okay, and Sherlock…"

I stop in the doorway, John's not looking up, fixating on the guzzling baby. "I have something I want to talk about when we get home."

"Did I do something?"

"No, no. It's fine. Nothing bad." I leave, still worrying a little. Whatever he says, talks are never good. Hmmm. Again, he's gone to measures to hide his attitude, so all I can see is that he's completely calm;but this is something serious, and there's nothing that's telling me this is going to end badly, or we're going to argue.

I go upstairs anyway, but I'm refused the admittance to the post mortem. It doesn't matter, I'll just make Molly tell me when she next has a body in. I tell the officer to get out of his mother's house (because he's 40 and it's ridiculous) and leave. I can hear the baby crying already. I want to go home but it doesn't seem right to leave a finished crime scene without John.

"Bored."

"Shhhh. She's sleeping." John's stood, rocking the child gently from side to side, I'd decided to position myself upside down in the armchair, legs drained over the back.

"When will the people get here?"

"Soon, I think. They should have been here a while ago. She'll be adopted very quickly, you know, sweet little thing like her."

"Mmm." I stand up and walk in to the bedroom of the flat and begin to look through the drawers.

"Out of there, Sherlock. It's private."

"I was just double checking what I'd already guessed. It's a good exercise."

"And that's what you were doing in Greg's house with Hai yesterday?"

"Neither of us wanted to be there." I come back into the room, and John's wrapped the baby in a blanket and she's resting on his knee, I can hear her little snores.

"Hamish was just grumpy because he wanted to be at the park, you were just annoyed that you had to be there when there was a case."

"It was more important."

"He's had that party planned for months, Sherlock. Why are you in such a bad mood? You're usually so excitable when you've finished a case."

"Excitable?"

"Happy. Proud, I don't know. What's wrong?"

"I want to go home. Why do you care so much about waiting with the child?"

"You're the one acting childish, she's perfectly quiet. Just wait. I don't want to leave her, ok? She wouldn't notice now she's sleeping but I want to make sure she's okay." He shifts as he speaks and the baby stirs, he pulls it closer to his chest.

"Fine. I don't mean to…I just don't see why you're bothered by this."

"I thought you'd get it, I know it's not normal for you, but being a parent, I thought you'd see why I want to stay with her. Both her parents are dead, she needs someone to make sure she's safe, you know."

"I thought the father was just absent. I won't say anything more on the subject if it's bothering you. I think I may already know what you want to discuss later, love. And I don't think I can." John's been staring at the child so adoringly this whole time, a look of odd reminisce in his eyes. Now he's told me about the father's death (all the woman's family are absent, she's alone. It's one of the criteria of the victims). We've discussed this before, and I've already had the same view.

"But Sherlock…she has no one. And she likes me, I want someone to explain this to her when she's older, I want her to tell her about her mother, and that she was a nice woman, about the life she led." There are a lot of objects around the flat upstairs, she's travelled a lot, and I saw a box of letters in her bedroom, there are probably stories to tell.

"There are hundreds of couples looking to adopt, I'm sure we wouldn't be priority."

"Is that a yes, Sherlock?" His eyes light up and he moves forward, grabbing my hand. "Because I-"

"No." John sighs, his body sagging.

"Okay-"

"Let me finish. I do want this, another child, because it would make you happy. And I'd do anything for that, John. But I wouldn't be good enough. I can cope with Hamish, but I'm still not a good parent. To have another child, well…I think I'd be worse. I can't do that again, it changed me-for the better- having Hai, but I have no idea what to expect**.**I don't feel I can give as much to another child." At some point while I was speaking, the baby had stirred again, it was awake but not crying.

John's smiling a little, not something I was expecting (god, I love him, how is he still surprising me like this?) "Hold her." Before I get a chance to protest, he's put the baby in my arms. "Sherlock, loosen up, you know hold a baby." I do so and the baby makes tiny cooing noises, grapping onto the lapel of my jacket.

"She screamed when I tried to give her to 3 different officers. She's happy when you hold her."

"John, I know what you're trying to do but-"

"You're a good dad, Sherlock, I know you can do this. I know you'd be fine. You're over confident in everything, but not this, for some reason. You can treat her-or any other kid we adopt- just like Hai,"

"What if I can't?"

"I don't know where this doubt is coming from. Whatever you've conditioned yourself to think, you can love as many people as you want; it won't take anything away from the relationships you already have." John puts a hand on my face, just resting it there "You told me you didn't want Hai either, and look at that. You'll be fine."

"I want to believe you.I want to think I can change-"

"You don't need to change Sherlock, that father instinct, that caring is already there, it's just applying it to another person. Look how you're holding her, she whimpered a minute ago, and without even looking down you readjusted her blanket and began to rock her, bringing her closer to you."

"Reflex."

"Exactly."

"John…I-What's her name?" he looks surprised. He was probably expecting more of a protest, he opens his mouth, struggling with something, but simple says

"Grace." He puts an arm around me, stroking the baby's hair, until we hear a knock at the door.

"The social worker,I say, not moving.

"Pass her here," John whispers, standing up. "I'll get the number, and we'll check on her later." He buzzes the woman into the apartment (I wonder if the owner is ever coming back, we've been in here for over 2 hours).

"No,I say as soon as the woman comes into the room. She's tired, almost fell asleep on the way here, hyped up on coffee, jittery, also;she's not emotionally stable. It's not like the baby will be staying with her, but she doesn't seem to be in the right state to drive right now, and there's no way I'm letting her take the baby in that state.

"What are you talking about Sherlock? No what?" John speaks under his breath and steps forward. "Hi, I'm John. Sherlock and I were on this case, and we thought we'd stay with Grace here until you came." John takes out his wallet and shows her a pass he'd gotten for cases.

"She hasn't slept in 40, maybe 43 hours. She pulled over twice on the way here, thinking she'd lose control of the wheel. She isn't in a fit state to drive herself home, let alone the baby to a foster home."

"I-I uhm. How did you know that?" the small woman walks into the flat and John shuts the door behind her, looking worried.

"I noticed. Now, why did you think it would be appropriate to work in this condition?"

"I-I need the work. I couldn't tale another day off. It's none of your business. John-just pass the baby here, **(**I'll take her to the foster mother." She sighs

"Strange. You're wealthy-no, it's your parents isn't it? And you've overspent on your credit card but don't want it to show. Of course."

"Sherlock, can you do this later?" John sits down on the couch next to me and the social worker-who still hasn't introduced herself or given proof of her identity at all, how unprofessional- sits next to him. "He's just worried about her safety. Are you sure you're able to drive? One of us could take your car, with directions, and you could sleep."

"It's against regulations. I'll-"

"So is endangering the child you're supposed to be taking care of," I put in. John has woken the baby and is changing her nappy on the coffee table.

"True. I don't know what to do. I'm sorry."

"Call a colleague, maybe?" John suggests he looks into the bag and takes out warmer clothes, up until now, Grace had been wearing only a baby grow.

"Okay. Then I'll lay down for a second." John nods and picks Grace up, then puts his hand in my pocket.

"This is Sherlock's ID, by the way." She nods, on her phone already. She passes John her own and begins talking.

"Oh, can you sign this please? You're not officers but…" she's hung up, apparently her colleague is close, and she's gesturing with her clipboard at John.

"Sherlock, sign that for me? I'm kinda busy." Of course, the baby had started crying again when the woman had spoken, the noise too much for her. (she seemed fine when she's woken though, which is strange behaviour).

"Uhm. Is your co-worker a little more competent than you are?" I pass her back the signed form .

"I-" She's about to go into a whole defensive speech, but stops when she looks at me again and sighs. "She's great. I'm going to my car."

She leaves and John sighs loudly. "That wasn't appropriate, Sherlock."

"I don't care. Does she have a coat?" John grins at me. "What?"

"You kept calling her 'it' before, and you even mentioned her name then. Plus, you were very defensive. I think you're coming around."

"No. I would be worried about any child's safety."

"I know but…you like her, don't you?"

"I didn't say that. Pass me the child. You should go find a coat."

"Okay…" John's still smiling to himself. Great, now I'm going to have to discourage this again. At least, I think I want to.

The second social worker appears when John has made us both tea and the baby another bottle. This time it goes well and the child is taken to the social worker, as he promised, John gets the number of the foster mother and begins to discuss Grace's adoption. This ,of course, leads into a discussion if us adopting a child ('or Grace even' John adds in hope) and Hamish.

We leave with a pile of papers and more phone numbers. John kissed the baby goodbye and I smiled at her, when they'd gone John took my hand.

"You are definitely coming around to this. I don't care what you say, I can see it."


	54. Sleepover

Hamish is sat on the sofa when I get in, John in the shower. "Can I have a sleepover?"

"What? Why?"

"I saw it on TV and it looks really fun. Lots of sweets and pillow fights and films. Please?"

"No." Why on earth would I want children in the flat?

"Please? We'll be good." Hamish has shuffled off the sofa and is stood in front of me.

"Ask Dad. If this happens, I'm leaving for the night and only coming back when you're all in bed."

"So I can?" Hamish clenches his hands together and grins.

"I said ask Dad." Hamish does straight for the bathroom door, but I catch him. "Wait until he's out of the shower. It won't be long."

"What do I do now then?"

"You wait. Maybe make him a cup of tea**.**I do that when I want something." I sit down, picking up the book I'd left on the sofa this morning.

"I'm not allowed."

"Oh well then," I mutter, wondering whether I should email the publisher about the grammatical error I'd found.

"Fa," Hamish moans "Help, please?"

"But I don't want the sleepover."

"Please?"

"Fine." I sigh, standing up. I throw the book on the sofa. I was reading it aloud earlier anyway, better to finish it like that.

Hamish grins and runs to the kitchen. "Get the milk." I fill the kettle and take the milk when Hamish brings it, then pick him up. "Okay, so what I've learnt on convincing your Dad…you really know this, I would say, but hug him, tell him you love him. A compliment or two. Simple."

"Yes. Biscuits too?"

"Yes, probably. And get your Dad's favourite mug too."

"Oops," Hamish says as I turn upon hearing the sound of smashing pottery. "No no no. I'll fix it." He bends to pick up the pieces of the cup.

"Hai, move back. You might cut your fingers. Go sit in the lounge and I'll clear up, we'll still make Dad tea, just use another cup."

"I have to fix it." Hamish's lip is trembling by now, and his jaw is stiff.

"Don't get upset. It was an accident, it's too smashed to fix. Come here." I lift Hamish up and sit him on a chair, probably better as his feet are bare and the cup is completely shattered. I take the brush and clear everything, then bring Hai to me and hug him.

"Why are you crying?"

"Dad's going to be mad and and…" he lets put a sob then carries on "I won't be allowed people over and I wanted them here because it's nice and-"

"Shhhh." I wipe Hamish's eyes. "He won't be angry, okay? I'll tell him I broke it."

"Broke what?" John walks in, damp haired and in his dressing gown.

I straighten up, lifting Hamish with me. "Your mug, I knocked off of the surface. I'm sorry, love."

"For god's sake Sherlock. That was specially painted for me. "

"I'm sorry. Hai wanted to make you tea because he has something ask. And I did that."

"It was an accident, I know, but I can't help being annoyed." John sighs and takes the second mug I'd gotten out and finishes making the tea."Hai, why have you been crying?"

Hamish sniffs. "Haven't."

"Tell me. And what did you want to ask?" John takes Hamish from me and carries him to the living room, still afraid of the shards of pot he thinks I'd have missed (as if).

"He thought you'd be too mad with me to give him permission for what he wants." John raises an eyebrow at me but nods, and I follow him with my own drink. John knew from the beginning I was covering for Hamish, but doesn't seem too bothered by it. At least, he doesn't want to upset Hamish by asking him to apologise or admit that it was his fault.

"Oh Hai. It's fine." I pick up John's cup with mine and follow them, leaving it on the table in front of them. "What is it you want?"

"Uhm…Could I…would you-"

"Since when were you shy?" John tickles Hamish until he relaxes."Go on then."

"Can I have a sleepover?"

"Oh. Right yes, of course. No more than two people though."

"Really? Thank you!" Hamish jumps up and runs down the living room. "Yay."

"I'm glad you're happy. Now who are you going to invite?"

The discuss names which I couldn't really care less about (I usually reassess each of Hamish's friends when I see them, instead of trying to remember details, it's better that way). "Can I have it Friday?"

"Uh, no sorry. We have a visitor then."

"Who? What?"

"Uhm. Well, we were going to tell you tonight anyway. A social worker." John pulls Hamish back to the sofa to sit down, and I rest on the arm.

"What's that?"

"She works with kids who don't have mums and dad, or if they have a bad time at home. So she helps find new parents for them."

"Is she taking me away? You're not bad." Hamish moves, clinging to John.

John laughs. "No, no. Don't worry. It's nothing definite, she wanted to come see me and Father, to see whether we want to look after one of these kids."

"We don't," I say and John rolls his eyes.

"You know you're fine with the idea now, Sherlock. Stop it." He turns back to Hamish. "Anyway, we're not sure on it. We were going to see what you think? Would you like a brother or sister?"

"Yes! A brother. And my age. And it would be like a sleepover every night. Can it be Billy?"

"You can't choose like that Hai. But we'll see. If this does happen, and I'm not saying anything will-"

"Hopefully not," I mutter, laying back and hooking my legs over the edge of the sofa.

"You are so stubborn, even when I know you disagree becauseyou like to argue," John says, looking up at me, despite his tone, there's a smile in his eyes "You'll have to like the little boy or girl too, Hai. And we won't do anything unless you agree, okay? We're treating you like an adult here, so when the social worker comes, we expect you to behave like one okay?"

"I will." Hamish says "And a sleepover Saturday?"

"Fine."

"Can I go play?" Hamish is starting to get up already.

"Of course." Hamish runs off to his room "Come here, twit." John pulls me down next to me. "Stop making stuff up just to prove a point. I know you're lying."

"No." John shakes his head and kisses me.

"You are a ridiculous man."

"Dad, Dad, Dad," Hamish says hastily, pulling at John's coat "Can we get popcorn and films and can we have beanbags and-"

"No beanbags Hai. And we're going shopping tomorrow morning.You can pick some sweets and a film for tomorrow night."

"Okay." John turns back to the social worker, who'd been looking through Hamish's box of toys. Hamish had taken a shine to her and after talking to John had gone back over and was now explain the properties of his Silly Putty.

"He has a lot of things here," She says, getting up from the floor "Would you say he's spoilt?"

"In common terms."

John looks irritated. "What Sherlock means is, we have the money to get Hai whatever he wants-and one of us will sometimes come home with gifts-but he knows the value of money. He's intelligent and we've started to give him pocket money if he does chores. That's just a little dusting though.''

"I'm good at that. Can I do it now?" Hamish asks, propelling himself onto John's knee.

"Maybe later," John says quietly, and Hamish leans against him.

"And with the nature of your work, how safe is the house?"

"My brother is very good with security measures, we're safe. Plus, John has army training and I'm skilled in a fight."

"Hopefully it wouldn't come to that, but good. And it says here you do 'experiments', Sherlock? What does that mean exactly?" She lifts her glasses onto her head as she finishes reading. She didn't do that before. Wants to assess me.

"Currently, I have a tongue in the freezer infested with beetles and a cow's liver in the microwave, awaiting preparation. However, Hamish doesn't see anything too gory. And I don't do anything dangerous when he's around. And when are you planning to tell your soon to be ex-husband you're pregnant?"

"What-I-what?"

"I told you not to do this, Sherlock, to keep it to yourself for once." John rubs his face with his hands. "You don't have to answer that."

"Okay…That was just freaky. Anyway-" she's lost her train of thought. "We'd need to do a risk assessment, but that doesn't seem too bad."

"It could be. There is a lot of potential danger there." John elbows me in the ribs "Ow. But we'll try our best. Hamish hasn't been hurt before."

"Seems fine. And the work is good?"

"Well, of course it is, it's the most-"

"She means does it pay well, Sherlock," John interrupts.

"I know, I just dislike the phrasing. Anyway, I don't care about pay, I accept any case that's interesting. John works at the surgery most of the time."

"Does that pay well? We'll need to see conformation but…"

"We do get payment, he just doesn't pay attention. Thinks our money materialises. We're doing quite well, yes."

"Good. Hamish, can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Do you want us to leave?" John asks, ever tactful. He stands but I have no intention of moving.

She shakes her head and John leaves anyway to replenish the tea.

Of course, she asks Hamish some inane questions and he looks annoyed, but answers perfectly politely. After that, though John's made her a drink, she insists that she has to leave.

"Oh, by the way Grace is in a good home now. The parents are really lovely. She'll grow up great."

"Really? That's wonderful." John looks a little sad but hands her a notepad. "I collected these things for here, case notes, news clippings, photos and things that were in the flat of her mum, and I found out about her. So when she's old enough, Grace will know about her mother."

"Thank you." The social worker seems surprised and promises to keep us updated on the girl. John sees her out and comes back to the sofa, settling with an arm around me.

"Alright?"

"Yeah, I think it went fine. You were good. Anyway, you should know."

"She called her supervisor as soon as she left, she seems happy enough. Going to speed through our papers."

"Fantastic!"

"Hamish sit down." I'm leaving in a minute, but John had to go out to get some more chocolate or something, possibly regarding an allergy.

"But they're here soon!"

"Not for another half hour. Look, when the larger hand gets to the 12."

"I know but-"

"Then sit. I'm trying to play and you keep disturbing me. Or you could accompany me?"

Hamish looks excited "Yes!"

"We'll carry on with that I was teaching you last week." An easy little song, something similar to that in beginners manuals, but I like this version better.

Hamish plays with a fierce concentration, watching me in the window's reflection and copying as close as he can. "Dad's here!" he drops the violin and runs downstairs.

"Be careful with that!" I yell, but he pays no attention.

"Are they here? Are they? Are they?" Hamish is jumping up and down, trying to look past John.

"No. Go into the living room."

"Bye." I put on my coat and make for the door.

"You're actually leaving? I thought that was a pretence. For god's sake." John seems stressed, it's more sudden that usual.

"I don't want to be here."

"Well neither do I!" Hamish jumps at the shout. "Sorry. Argument at the shop. Shoulder hurts. Now I'm been left in a flat with 3 young boys and-"

"Oh John. I didn't think about how you-"

"You never do."

"I try. I'll stay. You can have a quiet night and I'll get anything the kids want okay? Just don't be mad."

John's face lightens;his body slackens "You're sweet. You have to be pushed into it, but you are. You don't have to do that. Just stay here, it'll be better, you don'thave to make extra effort."

"Fine."

"And no experiments." Hamish and I groan at the same time

"But I wanted to show them-"

"No Hai. Films and some games."

"So you're okay?"

"Good enough." I hear a car and Hamish rushes to the window. "And here we go…"


	55. Pets

"Sherlock!" He's angry. Has someone told him about- "Why the hell does Hamish have a box of chicks in his room?"

"Oh. That." Good. Nothing bad has happened.(Neither has he been told about my shouting at his sister-within reason, she'd called him in the middle of the night to yell at him for 'not being there' while she was 'having a bad time', though of course John was fighting in the war. She's back to drinking, of course.) "I was experimenting with how tapping the shells affect their development. So that needs further study, of course. I brought them home because Hamish really loves them when I showed him them in the lab."

"Chicks in a St Bart's lab?"

"They didn't know. Plus, you said I couldn't bring animals home anymore."

"And you see no problem here? Nothing to tell me?" John rocks on his heels. Oh. I should have said. Shouldn't have brought them at all.

"But Hamish technically brought them. He wanted them so much-"

"You are spoiling him. Now, you're going to go upstairs and explain that the chicks need to go back to the lab. It's not his fault."

"But what if he-"

"Yes, Hai will be upset, maybe even mad at you, but it won't last long. It never does. You tell him off all the time and he gets upset, and that doesn't matter. Why is it so bad for you to refuse him things?"

"I don't give him everything." I stand up, making for the door.

"I know. Just-well. Don't go back on rules okay? And maybe ask me first when you're buying anything over one hundred pounds."

"I did that once."

"Go. It's fine, you know really. I know it's just easier for you to keep Hamish complacent that deal with his emotional response, it's okay."

I walk upstairs and John goes to the kitchen to make tea, signing loudly.

I stop for a second, listening. Hamish is shouting something. Oh. He's lost a chick. I run upstairs then, if it crawls under the floorboards John's going to be mad, and Hamish probably upset (On the other hand, it may be interesting to see what Hamish does, or how long he takes to ask for help. Maybe even seeing whether the animal would get free itself).

As soon as I walk in, Hamish stops shouting, sitting back on his heels. "What was that noise?" Lately, I've been playing dumb, making sure Hamish wouldn't lie to everyone else when he misbehaves.

"I was playing." Hamish looks over into the cardboard box with the heated lamp for the chicks. I look over his shoulder, (I'm not going to test him today, too much chance of him becoming agitated and upset) **(full stop, and make this a new paragraph)**"Then why are there only 3 chicks now? Have you put the fourth somewhere?"

"No," Hamish whispers, I stare at him and he continues, "I was playing and I turned around to look at the other babies and he just went and now I can't find him and…"

"Okay. And do you have food left we can tempt him with?"

"They ate all of it."

Hmm. I tell Hamish to sit still and listen. No tell-tale squeaking. I begin to pace the room, the movement should scare the chick and either send it running out or at least force it into making enough noise that I can get to it.

No reaction.

"What if he's hurt or starving or what if he-"

"Quiet, Hamish." Hamish settles again, moving to stand on his bed and look around the room. "Could it have gone out of the door? Or were you blocking it?"

"Maybe he went out. I don't know."

"I think it would have broken its neck if it fell down the stairs, so stay there."

Hamish panics "He's dead? No!"

"I don't know yet. Stay there." I step out and shut Hamish's bedroom door behind me.

Nothing. The stairs are clear and so is the landing. It's definitely under the floorboards already. This means I'm going to have to take up some of the carpet (there's a loose corner in Hai's room anyway, and the pipe for the heater leaves the gap I assume the chick slipped down when looking for warmth).

"It's fine." I step back inside the room and Hamish sighs with relief. "Now, move. I need to move your bed across a little." Hai obliges (still getting in my way) and I move the bed. I lift the carpet at the corner and take up the floorboard nearest the radiator.

Of course, the chick is right there. Exactly as I predicted.

"Here, Hamish." I bend down to pick it up and hand him the now finally chirping bird.

"Yay!" Hamish jumps, but is hands are still gentle clutching the chick. "He's called Jake and he's fast and silly and he's my favourite and he-"

"Can you sit him down please?" I sit on Hamish's bed, which I'd moved back into place as I was talking. Hai takes the chick to the box and looks up at me, sometimes he'll be trying to read me, but right now he just looks innocent, a little concerned if anything. "Come sit here."

Hamish moves over to the bed, at first sitting on the side of the bed then moving onto my knee. "You know you're not supposed to have pets. And these are going to grow up really big and make a lot of mess."

"But-"

"No. We're going to take the birds to a farm and they'll have a nice life before they're sold for meat."

"What?" Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned the meat part. "They'll die?"

"Everyone dies. But the birds will live well enough until they're made into chicken nuggets. "

"I want to keep them." Hamish leans against me, and I stroke his hair.

"I know. But you can't. It was silly to bring them home."

"They're so cute and little though. Will they be okay on a farm with all the big animals?" I laugh, but his eyelashes are wet with tears he'd been trying to keep back.

"Oh Hai, don't be upset." I hug him tighter and push pack his hair (it's getting long now, it's probably due to be cut) "They'll be fine. You're taking better care of them if you take them to the farm."

"But I'll miss them."

"I know. Do you want to come to the farm with me?" Hamish nods and I carry him downstairs (maybe he's getting too big, but it doesn't matter).

John has dinner ready and Hamish inspects it, looking disdainful. "It's chicken."

"You like chicken." John hands him a glass of water and sits down.

"It's like the babies upstairs."

"Well…"

"I don't want to eat it."

John sighs **(full stop)** "Just chicken, or any meat?"

"All meat. They're babies and we shouldn't kill them and I don't want to eat them."

"Okay." He removes the plate and gives Hamish the potatoes that had been on the side and a little more veg. "Is this forever? We'll get you special foods, that's all."

"Yes." Hamish smiles and begins to eat. Though statistically he is likely to break after a few days, I'm not going to say anything for once. John isn't, so it's not good.

"And vitamins." John mutters. "Oh, and Sherlock, can you sign those papers for me?"

"You can pass of my signature by now."

"Please." He sounds tired. I oblige and sit down, looking through the forms.

"Are you okay? Not caught something from a patient?"

"I'm fine."

"You should wear a mask .I don't want you getting ill." John takes my free hand with the one he isn't using to eat.

"Unusually considerate. But it's okay. I'm not ill, just exhausted. I'll be better in the morning."

"I'll give Hai his bath and put him to bed, and we'll watch something." John smiles, setting down his fork and getting up, despite the fact he has not yet finished the meal.

"And you won 't complain about what I choose? Won't criticise every detail?"

"Now that's stupid. Impossible." John laughs and gets up to put his plate away, kissing Hamish's head on his way past.


	56. Foster Home

"But I want to pick too," Hamish grumbles, pulling a bag onto his back.

"We're not 'choosing' Hai, we get chosen really. We're not even sure if we're looking for a baby or an older kid." John shuts the door and ushers Hamish forward.

"I want to go."

"Not this time Hai." We go downstairs and Hamish goes straight into Mrs Hudson's, she comes out to the door to say bye.

"How's it going? The woman seemed happy when she came to see me but I know these things are hard."

"It's fine, Mrs Hudson, I say, and she smiles.

"Goodbye. Have a good time!" she shouts as we walk out of the door. Is that the right thing to say…" I can hear her worry as we get to the street.

"You okay?" John asks when we're in the taxi, putting his hand on my leg.

"Yes. You're not. You're nervous."

"Well yeah, all these kids are wanting to be adopted and we can only pick one…" John trails off, in the tone of someone thinking about their aspirations.

"Yes, one. And we could just go to an agency and look for a baby instead. My brother-some things I can trust him on-suggested a few."

"I don't know. The older kids rarely get adopted; I want to see what it's like. Still, I'd like to adopt a younger kid, probably."

"A teenager would be the most interesting. We'd get to see if they can change in a few years rather than a lifetime. But this isn't something to experiment with." John grins and leans against me as I add the last sentence; he'd looked worried at first.

"Would you want to adopt a boy or a girl?"

"I have no preference." And the taxi's stopped. This is the house of a foster mother-we're really just observing the life of the children in her care, we won't be adopting any of these. The social services will fit a child to our profile that they think will best be suited to our lifestyle.

John takes a deep breath as we exit the cab, and interlaces his fingers with mine as we wait. The social worker is to meet us outside and we'll go in together. "Sherlock. Can you not insult everyone we meet here?"

"I don't intend to insult any of them."

"I know. Just, don't tell them any of your observations, or ask any questions that may seem even a tiny bit personal. Please? I don't want them thinking badly of us."

I stare it him for a second, and he just smiles. "There she is," John says. I'd known a few minutes ago having seen her car pass to turn around. kiss his cheek and turn to her.

"We can go in now?" I ask starting to walk. The social worker looks like she wants to say something, but just gestures forward.

"Today's visit is going to be an hour or two long,you can get an idea of the kids and I can see how the react to you and so on. Any decisions on age? Sure you don't want to find an agency and go with a baby? That's the usual approach, but I think it's better you're looking for someone older."

"Not sure. We'll meet these kids and make our decision by next visit." The social worker; Brenda I remember now, knocks on the door briefly then walks straight in.

A woman (husband works away, infertile, made soup earlier-spilled down front, needs a new car) comes to the door and Brenda introduces us.

"I'm Mandy, come in. I'll shout the kids down. Right now, there's two boys-brothers, they'll want to be together-you're only looking for one right?" John starts to answer but she doesn't pause for long enough for him to speak."5 and 10. A boy and girl both 2; they're in the kitchen. And Ruby, she's been with me for years, not one of those up for adoption, of course." She yells up the stairs and the brothers come down, followed by a sullen looking teenager.

"Come through." She gestures towards the kitchen. "Boys, take the gentlemen's coats."

"Not necessary." John says, beaming, hanging his coat on a peg and taking mine from me (I'd slipped mine off as Mandy was speaking.)

"We baked buns. Come see." The smallest boy takes John's hand and drags him along with Mandy. The older boy observes me warily, then looks at the girl. She nods at him and he follows his brother.

I should probably say something. "I'm Sherlock."

"Hi," the boy mutters, the girl however perks up.

"I'm Katie. I think I remember you from the news a while ago. You're a detective or something?"

"A Consulting Detective." She seems to be waiting for more, but I just scan her. "Your mother committed suicide?" She goes pale as soon as I speak.

"Sherlock?" I hear John calls me from the kitchen. I think I've upset her, he can hear us speaking from in there so he's trying to pull me away from doing anything worse.

"What-how did you know that?"

"Mostly a guess. The necklace you have on is hers-too old to have been bought recently, too long to be yours, fit for an adult. The catch on the back isn't a style used anymore; it can't be anything from Mandy because her family wouldn't have been able to afford that. Your place here has to be your mother's."

"But she could have given it to me; she could have died in another way? How did you know?"

"It seemed the most logical conclusion for you to be adopted here, and the reason you were the chain constantly. The suicide, well it's a crucifix, my first guess was that your mother got pregnant young, you were an accident and after giving birth she left you somewhere and killed herself, afraid to deal with the consequences- I know you've been in care since you were born and that was the first thought."

"I don't like that. You shouldn't know that. It's freaky. Good, but freaky. Can you teach me to find stuff like that?"

Strange response. She's lonely, been bullied a lot-she doesn't want to insult.

"Possibly. Not to my level, you wouldn't be able to do that. But I can show you a little."

"Sherlock?" John walks back in, a small girl in his arms.

"Yes, coming. I was talking to Jane here."

John looks at me quizzically and I smile. "Why do you have a child?"

"She likes me." He tickles her stomach, making her giggle and hands her out to me. "This is Katie."

"No, keep her." I step away, going to look at the second child and the two boys.

"Hello. Your names, please?" I ask and John moves to sit down.

No one spoke so Mandy introduced them. The ten year old- hoarding food in his room, it seems- she taps on the back of the head,"Danny", she then passes his brother a cloth to wipe his face, which was now covered in icing "Jayden." She moves on, picking up the small boy "Joseph. And your John has Katie."

"Yes, thank you." I stand there while John chats, rocking back on my heels.

"Sherlock? You playing charades with us?" I'd stopped listening until this, John was looking up at me from the table, the game box in the middle.

"No."

"Please? You'd be good."

"We need the same in teams and Brenda won't play. Be with us," the smallest boy, Jayden, asks. He stands up and pulls me by the hand.

"No thank you."

"Please?" the rest of the children chorused-how polite- and I roll my eyes and sit down.

"Fine."

John laughs at this and I scowl at the back of his head. "Not usually one to give into pressure."

"Shut up."

Jayden grins and gets up. He picks a card and Mandy whispers the answer in his ear so he's okay with it.

"Jay, remember that film is," Mandy does the 'camera' gesture with her hands, "the book is," she mimes this too. "And that television is," she shows his the movement, which he immediately copies.

"So, a TV show." Katie says out loud.

"Yes!" Jayden exclaims.

"No talking." Mandy encourages, and Jayden puts a finger to his lips.

"What's it about Jay? Come on." He springs into action then,roaring, then an arm to his back, mimicking a fin. Of course, I had it from the first second of his actions-make of game, time it was published, to show someone of his age will know well enough to act out- well, almost. It was an animal show, all dangerous. But I had no idea of the name, it's not something that would ever be relevant.

"Dangerous animals. Kids show," I say this quietly to Katie, who immediately comes out with, "Deadly 60." (Jayden jumps up and down with excitement.

"Yes! Right!"

Next Danny takes his turn, trying to act out some film called 'Finding Nemo' (I think Hamish may have toy from that. At least, the name is in my memory, not the movie or anything to do with it) but fails to do it in the time limit.

"Sherlock, your turn," Mandy prompts and Katie pushes my arm a little.

"No, I don't want to."

"You agreed to the game." Katie seems to be comfortable enough with me now to order me around, rather than being shy as I would have predicted.

"Why aren't you going?"

"I'll be next." She pushes my elbow again and I stand up. John looks up at me gleefully, and I roll my eyes at him.

"Stop moaning." He mutters something to the baby on his lap and waves her hand at me. "The card, Sherlock." He hands me one from the box and starts the timer.

'The Three Bears,' okay a fairytale. Those I do know of at least. Not deleted. Good.

This game is stupid. I show the 'book' action, which Jayden shouts out. Katie pulls him back to the chair, telling him to be quiet.

"Why can't I just say it?"

"Not the game. Come on, your time's going," John said lightly.

"Please. Just do the action. Don't think you look silly," Katie says, giving me an expression John calls puppy dog eyes' on Hamish.

I hold up three fingers, shaking my head when they say syllables. "The number three?"

I nod. "A book, Three…" I put a finger to my lips, then mime the porridge scene. The larger and smaller bowls.

"What?"

"10 seconds"

I groan, then mime the growling of a bear. Katie immediately yells out the answer, followed by Jayden.

"Idiots," I mumble as I sit down.

"Sherlock!" John almost yells, but he clams his voice. "He doesn't mean it."

"I do."

"Sherlock thinks everyone but himself is stupid and-"

"They are."

"He can't help it-well. Anyway, don't take it personally. He calls me an idiot all the time."

"He's like that with Hamish too?" the social worker buts in, surprised.

"Who's Hamish?" Katie asks. She's nosy, I like that.

"I can speak for myself. No, I don't talk to him like that. He'd be upset, sometimes I am too…frank with him, but he's okay. Sometimes I have to apologise but he accepts it. He's our son, Katie."

"Uhm…okay," Brenda says furiously scribbling, but I expected that .

John shifts over, explaining something further to her, but he's pulled away quickly to get on with the game.

After that, and a bun forced upon each of us, we leave.

"Went well enough. You two okay?"

"It was fine."

"Yeah. Good." John looks distant, thinking, plotting.

We say goodbye (well, I don't answer) and John and I wait for a taxi. "What are you thinking?"

"Can't guess?" John laughs, grabbing my hand.

"I'm not a mind reader."

"You come pretty close most of the time. Anyway, I was just trying to decide. Can't we adopt more kids?"

"No."

"I wasn't saying that seriously…I. Nevermind. We'll think, ok."

I don't like this attitude. I don't know what to say to that, but the taxi comes and John knows the driver from school or something, so we don't have any chance to talk properly.

"Stop brooding. It's fine."

"But can't you just decide now?"

"No, it doesn't work like that. Delete what I said or something. Don't be like this."

"Fine. Tell me when you know."


	57. Performance

"Give me that." I take the paper Hamish is reading from away from him, holding it behind my back. Hamish tries to reach for it, making a 'humph' when he can't reach it.

"Fa, I need to practice." I hold the paper high so he can't reach it and he makes an undecipherable noise of annoyance.

"You're supposed to memorise lines, not recite them. Go." I tell him and he stands up straight, linking his hands behind his back.

"Cue please," Hamish says, letting out a giggle despite an attempt to be serious.

"Good word. I like this teacher, most wouldn't teach you things like that at-"

"Fa. I'm supposed to be doing work. Can we start?"

"Demanding. You're first, go." Of course, this is a play where each member of the class has a part, most of them small, but apparently someone suggested he take the role of the narrator of the story. Probably because he's the best reader in the class, so they knew he could use lines like this, rather than remembering them in parrot fashion as I'm sure all of the other children will be doing.

Hamish gets his lines almost exact during his first paragraph but he paraphrases then gets flustered when realising he wasn't exact. "No that's wrong. I can't do this I need to read it and-"

"Shhhh Hamish. It's okay not to be exact with a play. It's only a school one. Do you want to try that again or go on with the next bit?"

"Try again." We practice the play for the next half hour (I read all the lines that aren't Hamish's, stating the character name), only getting to the third page (though there are only six in all and a lot of stage directions), when John comes home.

"Don't let me interrupt." John smiles, sitting behind Hamish on the sofa.

"No. I'm tired now." Hai leans back against John, who picks him up and hugs him.

"Had anything to eat since you were home?" John still worries. He imagines that because I don't really eat unless I am told to that I won't always feed Hamish unless he asks.

"Yes. I had an apple." Hai squirms on John's lap, moving to lay across him.

"I'll make tea soon. Don't fall asleep." John ruffles Hamish's hair and picks up the play script.

"I'll make it," I say. I'm still sat on the floor as I had while Hamish was practicing.

"Okay?" John seems confused, but goes along with it. "I defrosted some mince. So anything with that."

"I know." I don't get up, instead leaning against the sofa. John rests a hand on my shoulder.

"Hai, you know we're very proud you got such a big part in your play."

"You said that before." Hamish yawns.

John laughs at this. "Yeah. You're not nervous are you?"

"No. I want to get all the lines right and it will be good."

"But performing on front of people? You don't usually like new people, or crowds." Hamish sits up, turning to properly look at John.

"It's okay. My teacher told me that I should just look at you two and pretend people aren't there. Or to pretend that everyone's wearing their underwear." He giggles at this, then lays down again, the brief moment of sitting reminding him how tired he was.

"Good Hai. I'm glad."

"Can I put Finding Nemo on?" John nods and Hamish jumps up, finding the DVD and sitting in front of the TV.

John pulls at my arm, yanking me up to the sofa. "Why're you down there?"

"I was comfortable. And you know why, I was helping Hamish with his play."

"Shhhhh." Hamish leans forward, turning the volume on the TV up.

"Sorry Hai," John laughs and curls his feet up so they're in my lap. "How do you think he is?"

"A perfectionist. He'll be dead on with every word and timing by the time they perform. The best in the play, of course. Probably in the school."

"You always say that. Every parent does."

"I know, but if you look at grades even, he's the most intelligent and advanced n his school for a lot of years at his age range. So we're right when we say that Hai's the best child there." John's grinning

"Of course. I should have expected you would have stolen files."

"Not stolen. I didn't actually take them. I better go start dinner." John sits for a second, his legs still preventing me from getting up, then decides to go sit in the chair behind Hamish as I cook.

"The teacher said you were excellent in the rehearsal. Stop worrying." The play is supposed to be starting in ten minutes, but Hamish had been crying while the class were (was)waiting in his classroom, so the teacher sent him out to us. We're sat in the front row and Hamish is on John's knee as he consoles him. "You know your lines exactly. Everyone will love you." Hai's head twitches, and gradually he moves his face out from where he'd been hidden in John's shirt. "Just look at us. Ignore everyone else."

"Okay."

"And have fun," John adds as Hamish slips off his lap. Hai waves at us as he runs out of the doors and back to his classroom.

"He still seems nervous. Maybe he shouldn't do this," I whisper, leaning over to John as Hamish's teacher steps onto the stage.

John leans over to speak right in my ear,"You said yourself this is good for him. Just think about how proud he'll be when it's over. And you're proud he's doing this right?" He kisses my cheek before sitting back and I nod.

Being the narrator, Hamish is the first on stage. He's shaking a little, but I see him look do us, take a breath and begin his lines. His voice is loud, clear and he's smiling. The first actors come on, and Hai steps back.

"He's good," John whispers, taking my hand.

"Of course he is."

The other children don't do as well as Hai, but that's expected. John told me that I'm biased and some of the kids were pretty good, but I don't see it. The play ends with a song, which makes me want to immediately get out of there (maybe that was the point). Then all the children bow, Hamish stepping out first and getting a large cheer. He's beaming out at everyone, not just us this time. As soon as the teacher shouts they can go, Hamish runs to us, jumping into John's arms (John had stood up, getting very worked up as he was cheering). John hugs him tightly, kissing his cheek. "Well done Hai. You were perfect, well done." Hai laughs and grabs onto my shoulder and John passes him over.

"You were very good Hamish. We're proud of you." I hug him and he leans back, grinning.

"I know."

John laughs, then turns to another parent who was complimenting Hamish. When they leave, he addresses Hai again.

"Now Hai, they have cake and drinks in your classroom, so we'll get those and we can go out to dinner. Anywhere you want."

"Hmmmm," Hamish thinks,"McDonalds."

"You're so predictable." I laugh and put him down. "Do you really want to go for cake?" I'm only asking this in vain hope we can just leave, already knowing Hamish will go straight for the cake.

"Don't be stupid; of course, I do." Hamish runs off, darting through the crowd of parents and children.

"Well he told you," John says, linking into my arm as we walk to Hai's classroom.

"He's getting very facetious."

"Nah, he's just excited, hyperactive. He's polite." Hamish's classroom is full, and he's at the front of the line for drinks, receiving praise from the teacher.

"Hey bud." John puts his hands on Hamish's shoulder, taking the juice from her and handing a cup to me. "Want to go sit down?"

Hamish nods, holding his cake out in front of him carefully, concentrating so much on not dropping it that he bumps into 3 people and I end up steering him with my free hand.

"Here." John takes three chairs from the side of the room, moving them to face each other. "Don't eat too much of that or you won't eat tea." He reaches out and steals a piece and Hai slaps at his hand.

"Dad-" Hai moans, but John just grins.

"Only helping out."

We stay for 20 minutes, and a few of the parents of Hamish's friends come over and compliment him and Hamish talks to his friends, playing at some points.I sit on my phone, going through a backlog of cases Lestrade had sent and I'd ignored. John taps me on the shoulder when he's finished a conversation with a stout man who smells like a pub.

"Come on now!" I bounce up immediately, grabbing Hamish's hand and walk towards the door .

"Ow Father. You're going too fast and my arm hurts."

"Sorry," I mutter and we walk out of the front door.

"Why are you going so fast?" John asks, catching up.

"Bored. I want to get home."

"We're going for food first," John says, stopping a cab. He gets in then motions for Hamish to follow.

"Can't we just use the drivethrough?"

"That okay with you, Hai?"

"I'm tired. Yes." The adrenaline of the performance has worn off, and as we set off Hamish leans against me, yawning.

"You were fantastic," John says, stroking his hair.

"Amazing." I add and Hamish closes his eyes, dozing lightly.


	58. Sickness

_**AN: I'm sorry** that an update has taken so long. I've had a few exams and problems with Microsoft Word. Excuses excuses. Sorry. (Also I know a previous chapter is similar to this but it just happened)._

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John is sat at the kitchen table, a pile of paperwork in front of him. Earlier, I had been sat opposite him looking at bacterium from the fingernails of some victims of a recent murder-already solved- but I'd gotten bored. He seems annoyed, and I almost feel like helping him. Or, I could just coax him away. Someone at the Yard could do it for us, like they did before I met John. I don't know why he insists on this.

"John, I need to talk to you."

"Talk then." Brisk. Yes, he's tired and impatient.

"About Hai…I-" I should have just tempted him away with sex. This is going to require work. I'm not even sure where I'm going with this. He looks interested, good. "I was reading another book on children's' development and it says at this age, a sibling will make him jealous. Any attention we give to a second child will make him feel lonely and he'll probably act out."

"Yeah, of course he will. That's how kids are. Is that it? Can I get on with this?"

Maybe that was the wrong thing, I'll just go with-John's phone rings, he picks it up and mouths "Hamish," already moving to get his coat. There's been a lot of cases of the NorroVirus at the school so he must be ill. I told John not to send him in after a close friend of his was ill. John complained at me about his attendance (whenever John is away, I tend to fake appointments or tell the school Hai is ill so he doesn't have to go in and I'm not alone. It's not like he's missing out; I teach him anyway. A lot more than his school does too.) and sent Hamish in.

John hangs up as I'm texting."I'll get Mycroft to send a car, they won't let us in a taxi if he's vomiting." Of course, by the time we're downstairs, the car is already waiting.

"I know you say you hate it, but sometimes your brother's job is very beneficial, you have to admit," John says, climbing in and shuffling over the seats.

"I said I hate him, not the job. Mostly he just uses the power to annoy me."

"I don't think-" John cuts off as his phone rings again. "Hello?" Immediately, he leans forward and tells the driver to hurry. I stare at him, he's worried. "John?"

He shakes his head, listening and then into the phone: "Okay, we'll be two minutes."

"What?"

"Hai's getting worse, he won't stop throwing up. He's crying and complaining of a lot of stomach pain. He has a temperature." The nurse is advising us to take him straight to the doctor-unneeded, of course but it doesn't look good."

"How much vomiting? Should we take him to the hospital? What's happening? Faster!" I bark the last word at the driver, who doesn't even flinch.

"I don't think so. I'll check him over, give him something to stop any pain and we'll wait." As soon as the car stops, I jump out andJohn just behind me. The driver had taken us up to the door so we didn't have far to go. "Hamish Watson-Holmes' parents, we're here to take him home," John says to the receptionist as I stand at the door-we need her to buzz us in before we can enter the school.

"He's just in the nurse's room. Good you got here so fast." John makes some noise of acknowledgement as we leave. I remember where the nurse's room is from a map of the school we got a few of years ago and lead John towards it. I get to the room first, and Hamish-who looks very pale and tired-is sat on the bed reaches out for me, letting out a small sob. I pick him up immediately, careful not to put pressure on his stomach.

"It hurts," Hamish mumbles into my shoulder. John's behind me, stroking Hamish's hair.

"I know, we're going to go to the chemist and get you some medicine, then we'll go home okay?" I ask, John's talking to the nurse about what had happened with Hai (but I'd already figured that out). Hamish gives a groan and retches, the nurse quickly hands a bucket over.

"He's okay," John says and wipes Hai's forehead with a paper towel the woman had passed him. Hamish's stomach must be empty by now. "Hai, look at me." Hamish looks up, lifting his head slowly. "His eyes are unfocused. I don't like this." I move Hamish around so he's balanced in the crook of my arm and John can look over him properly. Hamish's eyes have closed and John takes his hand "Hai, am I blurry?"

"No. Can I lay again?" he closes his eyes again.

"One minute." John turns to the nurse. "Can you get him some water please?"

"He wouldn't drink," she says, handing John a cup.

"Does the light hurt?" Hai shakes his head.

"My head and tummy hurt."

"Does it hurt if I touch your tummy here?" he says, prodding Hamish's lower abdomen. Hai shakes his head and John does the same thing again, moving his finger until Hamish cries out-it's painful just above his belly button. "Okay, I won't do that again."

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Well, it's the virus; a violent strain, he's dehydrated but he'll be okay in a few days." He puts the cup to Hamish's lips "Drink." Hamish shakes his head, turning away. "Hamish, stop being silly. Your head will stop hurting if you take a drink. Only a sip, come on." Hamish's head is still buried in my coat. He's still refusing to move**.**

"Hai, why won't you drink?" I ask, a hand on the back of his head.

"I'll be sick."

"The water shouldn't do anything. It'll be fine. You'll feel better, I promise." John's tone is quiet, soothing and Hamish turns, taking the cup from him. He sips a little, then takes more.

"It makes my throat feel better."

"Good. We'll go now, I'll get you a bottle of water in the car." John says bye and thanks the nurse and I carry Hamish out. John pauses to sign something as we leave, but I'm busy trying not to joggle Hamish.

Still, the motion seems to have upset his stomach again and he's retching, throwing up the water already. "Oh Hai, we'll get you some medicine. You'll feel better." Hamish is crying quietly into my shoulder. "Do you want a story?"

John catches up, on the phone. I've just opened the car door and am buckling Hamish in. The driver hands me a paper bag. Inside there is Calpol and more water. John thanks him and gets in the opposite door. "Mycroft said he'd sent someone with this. I told you that you need to thank him more."

"Now I'm probably going to have to do something for him."

"And that is your priority here? Not that Hai will feel better?"The driver passes back a carrier bag before setting off.

"Well, no." I open the Calpol and pour it onto the spoon, offering it to Hamish. He looks pained but takes it, closing his eyes. He's still struggling to keep them open, though John reassures me it's more him being tired than the effects of the dehydration.

"Hai, drink again." John gives him a bottle of water, already opened from the mini fridge under the seats.

"I wanna sleep," Hamish moans, pushing the bottle away. "I'm cold."

"You can sleep soon. Drink." Hamish obliges and John takes his jacket off, draping it over Hamish. He takes the bottle and sits back, watching Hamish intently. Then I remember I should probably take my coat off and attempt to clean it where Hamish had thrown up. There are wipes in the paper bag, which I use then take another, cooling Hamish's head.

"Drink again," John orders and Hamish sighs, but does as he's told. Two minutes later, as we go over speed bumps, Hamish retches and John holds out the paper bag. "Use this if you're ill." Hai shakes his head, leaning against John, crying again. "I know. It hurts, I'm sorry I can't do anything. I'd stop it if I could."

"Story?" I ask and Hamish nods.

I tell of a case we'd taken a few weeks ago, pretty simple although it had required a few disguises and John had almost gotten caught while we were watching the house (a petty thief, mostly his thrills came from the murders of the families). Of course this was edited and the roles changed, made more like a fairytale (baddies and goodies, though still detail. Usually I hated this overdramatizing of a case, but it was for Hamish).

When we get home, I carry Hamish upstairs and set him on the sofa. John puts on some cartoon and sits by Hamish's head on the floor. I sit on the sofa, with Hai's feet on my knee. After Hamish has drank what John deems is enough, he's allowed to sleep.

"When will he be able to eat?" I ask, Hamish had already been saying he was hungry while John made him drink, but he refused any offer of food.

"I'll give him some toast in a few hours, see if he keeps it down. He probably won't want to eat though."

Hamish grumbles and turns over so we move away, turning the TV off and going into the kitchen.

"You look worried," John says, turning and taking a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Hai is ill."

"Yeah, but he's with us. He's fine. You know, my years of medical training;you're kind of a genius. I think he's fine."

"Kind of?" I quirk an eyebrow and John laughs.

"Shut up." He sits down across from me. "No, we're here. He'll be fine." I don't answer, looking away. "Sherlock? Don't do this. Talk to me." He reaches over for my hand. "You okay?" But I pay no attention, my mind racing through situations of Hamish being ill like this for a long time, getting worse, him being in hospital…and Hamish dying.

Then, I shut off. John's talking to me but I don't really hear. I feel him tapping my shoulder but ignore it. Then he's gone and I'm alone.

At some point, I hear Hamish crying and get up-I hadn't heard John moving and that worried me "What is it?" Hamish doesn't answer but reaches out for me and I hug him, moving him so he's covered in the blanket but on my knee on the sofa. "Does it hurt again?"

"Yes."

I hear the door downstairs shut, John must have gone out. The medicine is on the coffee table so I check the time and give him another spoonful. "You hungry?" Hamish nods, then shakes his head. He's crying only a little now, sniffling with tears running down his face."I'll be sick."

John's here and comes to Hamish straight away, feeling his head to check his temperature."You're hotter, I think. Want an ice lolly?"

"I thought you said toast or something easy to digest would be better?"

"This is more like a drink, it's fine," Hamish hadn't answered but takes an ice pop from the carrier anyway. "It'll be good for your throat too." John takes the bag to the kitchen and unpacks ;he's gotten all of Hamish's favourite foods and a magazine.

"Want to watch a film?" I turn the TV on with the remote, flicking through to the film channels.

"I want to play but I feel too poorly."

"We can play some games sat here. Have you ever played Hangman before?"

Hamish shakes his head "John!" I shout towards the kitchen."Get me a pen and some paper."

John grumbles something about me being closer to the desk but passes me them, sitting in the chair opposite.

"Okay, so I think of a word, put little lines for each letter and you have to guess what the word is by thinking of letters. When you get one wrong, I draw a line until the man is hung."

"What does hung look like?"

I'm about to explain but John interrupts, I have a feeling this is like when I told Hamish what beheaded meant and he had nightmares, apparently I was a little too graphic ."In the olden days when people were bad, instead of sending them to prison they'd hang them, like in this game."

"The pieces are drawn like this," I demonstrate, stopping after each section. Hamish coughs, almost retching but nods again, still watching what I was doing (though his hands are now covered in the ice lolly he's been letting melt.) "Hai, your ice pop."

"Okay, so my word is to do with my job, go."

John leans over, noticing the amount of spaces "Don't forget he's 5, how hard is that to spell?"

"Easy."

"A" Hamish says "That's two words isn't it? That's a big space."

"Yes, go on. 'A' was wrong." I draw the first part of the hanging post and move on.

We play this for an hour, until Hamish is dropping off again. When I move him back onto the sofa, John pulls my hand and takes me into the kitchen

"You've never tuned out like that in the middle of a conversation. At least, not one that isn't about a case. Would you care to explain?"

"We were talking about Hamish being ill, and I was thinking about it and I didn't want to."

"So you just cut everything off because you didn't want to think these things? To feel them?"

"I was doing equations in my head, old habit, I used to do it a lot when I was if I didn't want to think about whatever was going on. Sometimes I'd do maths too or memorise things. It's hard but I can mostly blank things out if I focus enough." John takes my hand and his thumb is stoking light circles at the back of my hand.

"It's okay to think like that, you know. Every parent worries like that."

"I know, but I don't like it."

"It's not good to blank anything out, or just to stop talking to me. If you're feeling like that again, just tell me. It's easier than what you did."

"I don't want to."

"Sherlock, it's better for you. I thought you were more open now." John moves his chair so he's closer to me at the table.

"I am. I just shut off when I don't know how to handle…emotions."

John smiles, "See, you'd hardly admit you had emotions before. I just worry that it will make you feel worse later on, or it might have worse consequences. Whatever you say, I know that a small part of drugs was an escape, taking away the 'bad ' thoughts so you could focus on what you wanted to."

I turn away. I don't want to talk about this anymore. John, of course, knows this straight away. "Thank you for telling me that, Sherlock. I know it's hard. " John stands up, smiling again. "So why don't you tell me the cases you were solving via text earlier and I'll make some lunch?"


End file.
